Ruroni Ranko
by Skysaber
Summary: During the mushroom incident events diverge from normal and enemies try to take advantage of our pigtailed hero. Unfortunately for them, attempts to get rid of him often go disastrously wrong.
1. Chapter 1

Ruroni Ranko

Chapter One

by Skysaber  
aka Jared Ornstead

During the mushroom incident events diverge from normal and enemies try to take advantage of our pigtailed hero. Unfortunately for them, attempts to get rid of him often go disastrously wrong.

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"I think we've found something, Father. The trouble is I don't know what it is."

Two figures were exploring an ice cave. Both were powerful martial artists, among the best in Japan, if they didn't occupy the highest slot themselves. One, much taller, was a quiet man with laughing eyes and a powerful build. The other, much smaller, was a beautiful girl.

No one who knew her from Nerima could mistake this girl for Ranma's girl's side, but that's who it was. Her long, flowing hair shone even in the cave's low, ice-tinted light. She wore it long and loose, draping clear down to her knees and brushing up against her calves. The red color was unusual in Japan, but they'd stopped remarking on it long ago. Like her crystal blue eyes, it just helped mark her for who she was.

Other than the fact that she was dressed as a miko, a shrine maiden, and carried two swords tucked into her sash, there wasn't much to distinguish her aside from a certain maidenly grace and a certain sparkling laughter within her sapphire eyes that her troubles had done nothing to diminish.

Easily accepting the term father, as it was a ruse they'd agreed upon ages ago until it had grown almost to where it was no ruse at all anymore, the older man came to stand by her side, sensing the air. "You are correct. I feel something. It comes from this way." The man gestured with his sheathed sword and the two set off through the ice-colored light of the twisty maze of cave.

In some ways, Ranma couldn't be happier. Sure, there was no hot water to speak of in this era, but then again staying in his cursed form most of the time wasn't so bad, and this time he'd enjoyed something approaching a normal childhood.

It had started, oh, many years ago. Back in Nerima, in the far-flung future, when he had lived among the Tendos, there had been an incident of magic mushrooms that had turned Ranma into a child of five years old. Ryoga had grabbed all of the mushroom and ran, scheming to keep the cure to himself so Ranma would stay a child and drop out of the running for Akane, his arranged fiancee. But the real successful one had been Kuno.

Someone, probably one of the Tendos (though Ranma wasn't going to assign blame without knowing for sure) had informed Kuno of his condition. It might've been Nabiki out to make a fast yen, or another out asking for help with the matter, he didn't know. But Kuno had become aware of the problem and gone to get some object dealing with Time, telling the Tendos that it could deal with the problem.

Well, apparently the problem was Ranma himself, because the next thing he knew there was a flash of light and he was falling toward ground from a couple of hundred feet up. Now normally that wouldn't have been any problem, but Akane had just recently forced him to eat some cookies she'd baked.

So he'd fallen, poisoned, to the ground, accepting the blow with his chi reinforcing his body to absorb the impact when it should have been helping to fight off the toxin. He'd survived the fall, and the cooking, but between them they'd left him sick and weak for days.

Luck being what it was for the Saotome heir, he'd no sooner crawled out of the bushes after his fall than he'd fallen into the laps of a camp of traveling slavers. Taking him for a survivor from a nearby ruined village, they'd added the weakened five-year old to their catalog of human merchandise without even a blink.

Ranma had been going to teach them a thing or two once he got better, but he never got that chance. Later that day, when he was still weak and nearly helpless, the band of slavers was attacked by a group of bloodthirsty bandits, who'd started killing everyone.

One other redhaired kid had tried to resist, but had been held back by those same women, fellow slaves, who had been caring for Ranma.

Too sick to move, and hardly well enough to see straight, Ranma had still managed to pick up a handful of gravel and flick stones with great force and unerring accuracy. He'd always come into his best when the fight was desperate, and turning aside the sword strokes of the killers had saved most of the slaves' lives.

Unfortunately, it wasn't to last. Despite the dark they'd noticed he was the one with the pebbles. His groans as he'd forced his arm to move had given him away. Fortunately for Ranma, he'd still been able to summon enough energy to do a body switch, letting a log dressed in his shirt and pants take his place in between the time it took for the bandit chief to raise his sword and for the blade to thunk down into its target.

Unfortunately, the move he'd done so many times before had exhausted what was left of the weakened boy, and though he was safely hidden under a nearby bush after making the switch, he'd nearly fallen unconscious, helpless in truth.

Fortunately, a wandering swordsman had come along at that moment and slaughtered the bandits with an ease that made Kuno look even more pathetic than he already was.

The freed slaves had departed, going off down the trail. A few of the nicer women, the ones who'd cared for him, buried Ranma's 'body' before they left, not able to tell in the dark that it was a dummy.

The next morning, Ranma was alone with the redhaired kid who'd stayed behind to bury the bodies of the bandits. After a day of getting better and helping with minor tasks, during which it rained, the wandering swordsman had come back. Impressed they'd made graves for the same guys who'd tried to kill them, he'd taken the two redhaired children on as students.

Ranma, sadly, had nothing better to do at the time. And, stuck with a five-year-old body, he had to do a lot of growing up before he could safely go searching for a way back home. It was better to be around a martial arts master than to go out encountering more slavers and bandits in his youthened condition, so he'd stayed, hoping to learn something during his wait and confident that it wouldn't be too hard.

He'd later learned just how right that hasty estimate was.

In the ice caves, the shrine maiden closed her eyes, her posture as if smelling the air. "The chi here shows traces of magic, but it's probably not what we're looking for," she declared.

The giant figure of a man beside her gave one of his soft smiles as he gazed fondly down at her, "All the more reason for us to investigate, my daughter. If we don't deal with it now, the townsmen would only call us back later, once it breaks free."

"That could be hundreds of years from now, you now," she chided with a friendly grin.

"Of course! I still plan to be around then. I don't know about you." He gave a hearty laugh.

Smiling wider now, she joined in his laugh, eyes twinkling.

The redhaired boy's name had been Shinta, but no sooner had their mutual master taken them on than he'd changed that to Kenshin, saying that Shinta wasn't a strong enough name for a potential inheritor of Hiten Mitsurugi style swordsmanship.

The master, Seijuro Hiko, had told them both at the time that only one of them would inherit his style. They'd accepted that. Well, actually, Ranma had proudly proclaimed that he was already an heir to a fighting style - the Saotome School of Anything Goes martial arts. But once Seijuro had started questioning him about it, he'd had to endure no end of mocking over having such a weak style to be heir of.

One of the many beliefs to get punctured that first week was that weapons made you weak because they could be taken away. Master Hiko had taken them to another bandit camp and cut off all of the arms and legs of the criminals he found there. Standing proud over their painful, crippled bodies, he'd made Ranma see something he never would have learned back in Nerima - that in a true fight for life, your limbs weren't any safer from being lost than a swordsman's blade. And that, given a choice between the two, he'd far rather lose a sword.

Sparring with his original father had all been play-acting compared to the fights around here, where people bet their lives on contests of fighting skill and lost them in a second. That had been a sobering realization, almost as bad a one as learning he'd traveled through time to one of the bloodiest periods in Japan's recent history. A time of real samurai epics.

That left him more stuck than he'd imagined before. And, just his luck, Ranma hadn't known a thing about the period, having skipped those classes due to his father's training.

"Yes, there is definitely something in the chi," Seijuro Hiko agreed, sniffing the air. Beside him, Ranko grunted out her own happy agreement, leading the way deeper into the caves on the trail of magic-tainted chi.

The master of Hiten Mitsurugi was easily a dozen times more skilled than Genma in actual fighting, but it was a different age with different priorities. Genma had practiced larceny more than fighting arts, those were just the advantage that gave him opportunity to fill his belly at the expense of others. Seijuro could have killed him in an instant, before Genma was even aware of the danger, a dozen times in a dozen ways - even if Genma had warning of the attack beforehand. But the martial artists of Genma's day had branched out to a variety of techniques not directly related to surviving a position never more than a heartbeat away from death at the hands or blades of other martial artists. So, from that previous training, Ranma knew (or knew of) thousands of techniques no martial artist of his current era would waste time on.

Everyone around here was devoted to that last little touch, the edge that would leave you alive and your enemies dead at the end of a fight. Shaving a quarter of a second off an attack was far more useful to the here-and-now martial artists than worrying about what benefits you MIGHT get if you studied calligraphy or Okanomiyaki as a fighting style.

So there wasn't a lot of weird martial arts styles around, or the associated benefits from a bunch of oddball discoveries that had actually turned out to be useful.

Seijuro had treated Ranma's reliance on those as a disadvantage and a weakness to be overcome.

It had definitely stuck in Ranma's craw to be the 'other student' when he'd learned things at a rate many times that of Kenshin. But while Kenshin got taught things just because, Ranma had been forced to earn each opportunity for training, getting sent off for supplies (like jugs or sake) while Kenshin got instructed.

Something had to delay the hotheaded Saotome while Master Hiko taught his official pupil, and sending Ranma out to chop wood was useless. He could level a forest and bury their cottage under firewood in less time than it took for Kenshin to learn a single basic move. So Master Hiko sent Ranma out on long errands.

So, naturally, being Ranma, he'd used his knowledge of stealth techniques to observe the training techniques and method, before using his speed at leaping and jumping to make the trips to the village to get things quickly while Kenshin fumbled through those moves. Then, if he had to, he'd train himself in those techniques when the master wasn't looking.

Seijuro had gotten progressively better at detecting this, and suddenly nothing Ranma got was quite right. He'd get sent back for different pots, or sent to get one special made a certain way, or to fetch something from a traveling tinker it would take days to find. During those days of absence, of course, Kenshin was getting lots of personal instruction.

In desperation, Ranma had stopped trying to return to his master's camp for two weeks, just long enough to learn the basics of pottery by observation. Then, when his master sent him off to replace a bowl he'd probably broken deliberately, and whose replacement had to be just so, Ranma would still stay around and observe from concealment as Seijuro taught Kenshin, then save all of that unwanted travel time by making the bowl himself.

His master got increasingly picky about his tastes in pottery, often sending Ranma off to local masters for replacement cups and dishes. But that just led to increases in his student's pottery skill. When he couldn't make it himself, he would go off to the local master, but only to watch them and obtain the technique so he could copy more of their work later instead of enduring any more long trips.

Then his pottery gear had gotten discovered by his master wandering the local woods, and suddenly it was metal bits that were always getting lost or needing replacements. Ranma had learned to copy Mousse's Hidden Weapons techniques to hide his tools after that, but once metal no longer delayed him, Ranma got sent out for wood carvings, or to buy food.

Carving wood into furniture and things was easy. However, food was something big. It took so much time to grow any that it was easier just to buy, but he swiftly took to doing work for the local peasants in town, earning far more supplies than Seijuro had sent him money for. The rest he'd hide in stuff space, and so make fewer trips. He even got to keep any unspent money as a sort of allowance, as in effect Master Hiko was paying him for things, instead of the local people.

Only, once one thing no longer delayed him, it was on to other tasks and different errands.

By the time he and Kenshin had hit their early teens together, Ranma could've run a whole town by himself easily. He had the needed trade skills just from trying to learn stuff to avoid unnecessary trips.

But that was also when the revolution was beginning to be in full uproar, and Kenshin left their master, telling him that he was going to use his sword to protect the innocent people who were suffering. Seijuro called him a fool, telling him that he'd just be used by one side or the other as a tool to cause more death, but Kenshin wasn't listening at that point, and left.

Between their master's various attempts to delay Ranma's learning, Kenshin had actually known more of the style than Ranma when he left. But he still was not a master, and didn't know any of the final attacks when he left to become an assassin for the rebels.

Once he departed, Seijuro and Ranma had made their peace together, and he had taken up her training with a seriousness that he'd never shown before, and between that and the child's impressive learning rate, Ranma had earned complete mastery of their style in a couple of months.

But that was when he'd encountered new problems.

In rural Japan and a log cabin style environment there wasn't much hot water. Since they were expected to train out during the rain or to contemplate beneath the flow of a waterfall, not to mention how often they fought in one or splashed water as they ran through streams and puddles, for the first several years he was there it was just easier for Ranma to remain a girl. It certainly saved explanations as to why his hair changed color, and the body of a very young girl isn't hard to disguise as a boy's. Seeing as how Ranma's speech patterns and mannerisms were all very masculine, for years there had never been any question.

But then puberty hit with a vengeance.

As well developed as his cursed form was, it became obvious that soon he'd not be able to disguise those curves on any more trips to the local villages.

The solution was a dual identity. He couldn't reveal that he was cursed, as superstitious local peasants treated those things like European peasants treated leprosy - if you had it, you'd better stay far, far away from them. Otherwise, they'd either run at the sight of you or get someone to kill you, preferably with arrows.

They treated anyone so unlucky as to get cursed as contagious and wanted nothing to do with them.

So Ranko became his girl side, and Ranma his boy one. It gave him an excuse to be either gender, allowing him access to the greater rights of being male on those occasions when circumstances didn't force him to be a girl. And with his training in the art of Hiten Mitsurugi completed, and his curse revealed to his former master (who turned out to be far more sanguine about those sorts of things than the superstitious peasantry - besides, they had been closely associated for years. If anything were contagious, it would already have spread), they could travel in search of a cure.

Having completed his life's work by training up a successor, Seijuro Hiko was free to do as he pleased, yet intrigued by this proof that magic existed. So, for years now, they'd been hunting down hints of magic, and picked up quite a reputation as devil hunters and demon exterminators. But in spite of what Nerima had conditioned him to believe, magic and stuff like actual demons were nowhere near as common as Ranma once thought. Most 'magic' they encountered were fairly simple tricks where someone deceived a gullible eye. Ranma could do more impressive stuff with his chi most of the time. There was enough real magic out there to keep them looking, but like his curse, most who had any exposure to actual magic kept that fact well concealed.

Still, both Seijuro and Ranma/Ranko had been picking up useful bits of knowledge as they hunted down whatever traces could be found. A few genuine finds here or there had taught them the rudimentary basics of what to look for, and how to tell the real bits from fakes. One of the first useful techniques they'd encountered was to sense the feel of magic as it altered the local chi, enabling them to detect even what the locals didn't know was magic, or confirm or deny what rumors and legends had brought them to investigate. Nothing they had found so far was very powerful, although they'd not yet risked a trip to China.

Traveling in Japan was hard enough as it was. They didn't want to be Foreign Devils on top of that, something the Chinese warlords would surely regard them as. Foreigners tracking down ancient and precious secrets were far more threatening than locals doing the same. It just seemed better to both of them to exhaust what they could learn or find in Japan first.

So, masquerading as a proud father and his child, they traveled Japan.

By necessity, his girl side was still the face and body Ranma wore much of the time. Water didn't get any hotter now that she was trained. But she was very beautiful; in an age where women were more property than people she'd already inspired more than a few men with lust to almost Kuno-like levels of wanting to own her. And in this day and age, a single girl had no right to say 'no' when a wealthy or powerful man wanted to possess her.

For that matter, few married women did. It was up to their husbands to object, and the few men that did gambled with their lives against the powers of those they told 'no'. Few dared, and most of those who dared died and the wealthy, powerful men got their wives anyway.

Thankfully, when Ranma's boy side dared, few could endanger him.

Whenever a marriage or less savory arrangement got suggested for Ranko, her 'husband' Ranma could make an appearance, vouched for by the boy's 'father' Seijuro, and agreed to independently by his 'daughter-in-law' Ranko. That staved off most of the potential suitors, though a few nobles had to be convinced by their swords that this wandering couple and their father were not to be disturbed for the sake of mere lust. Not unless he wanted to lose a large chunk of his private army, that was.

It wasn't perfect, but in a land torn by war and insanity, it did enable them to get around.

"This is it," Ranko declared, coming across a slab of blue-white metal embedded in the wall and covered with strange runes. Nearby was a small, underground pool, unfrozen despite the ice that covered everything else. "This is where the magic emanations are coming from."

Between the two of them, they'd had a decent amount of experience tracking down magic, and one of the first things they'd learned early on was to detect it, following the local chi. But they had expanded on that technique to where they could identify many types of magic by the flavor of their chi. This one seemed unfamiliar, which meant it was something new.

Her adopted father stepped around her to get a look at the slab. Ranko sadly had to admit that he was better at ancient languages than she was, and had to regret sleeping through so much school back when book learning was an opportunity for her.

Around here, it was a privilege, and a jealously guarded one at that.

Seijuro allowed himself a small smile, reaching out to run his hand over the carved words. "This could be interesting."

As if woken by words, or the touch on the misty slab, a bundle of rags in a corner beyond the pool stirred and shifted, revealing the oldest Yuki Onna either of them had ever seen. It was not unusual for the real magic stuff to have some sort of guardian. But her fighting spirit was pathetic, so neither felt particularly endangered. Besides, they'd fought enough actual demons to be aware of any surprise attacks it might try to pull.

Seeing as how she stayed on the far side of the pond, both swordsmen ignored the spirit, who it looked like could barely move. Secretly, Ranko rolled her eyes, wishing that she could fight another dragon. That had been fun, and she'd gotten some nice additions to her wardrobe out of it.

"Go back to whence ye came!" the old crone threw a snowball, which 'puffed' against the side of Seijuro harmlessly, who'd felt no threat and so not bothered to dodge it.

"Go back to whence ye came!" the blind woman repeated, grabbing another handful of snow in her gnarled old hand. Ranko similarly disregarded it, and failed to dodge until the last second. When it was no more than a hair's breadth from her robes she felt a sudden spike of danger. The magic of the snowball had been too indistinct and pathetic to notice before then.

Her adopted father whirled around, sword clear of its sheath in an instant, ready to strike down her foe as his own danger senses spiked.

But it was too late. With a harmless 'pfft' of impacting snow the girl was no longer in an ice cave, up in the mountains of feudal Japan. Instead, she was in the Tendo home, staring at the startled faces of a family she'd not seen in over eleven years.

"Pigtailed girl!!" Tatewaki Kuno leapt at her, arms spread in love, only to reverse course mid-air suddenly enough to startle everyone present at how fast that girl moved. Most would never have believed she had moved were it not for her posture change or the sword now in her hand.

Ranko blinked in her own surprise as the pretentious wanna-be samurai flew away from her stroke. She'd hit him with her sword still sheathed, as that was always easier to explain away to the law than carving young noblemen in half, but had honestly expected to leave a furrow behind, a canyon of broken ribs and pulped flesh. Instead, Kuno had merely gotten knocked across the room and out of a flimsy wooden wall, to make a crater in the more substantial stone wall around the compound.

The maiden gave herself a tiny, almost imperceptible shake. The knockback technique. She'd nearly forgotten about how just about everyone who called themselves a martial artist in this era knew it. It was rare in the revolution, because it didn't work against cutting attacks and if you got in a fight back then it was almost certainly going to be using swords or other edged weapons. But in the here-and-now of the Tendo home, most serious martial artists could trade a killing amount of blunt force for speed in an opposite direction. It was, like the falling from a great height technique, considered the barest minimum of what you needed to know in order to call yourself a martial artist.

Astonishing that she'd almost forgotten about that.

Unperturbed, she restored her still sheathed katana to its place in her sash. "I am the wife of Ranma Hiko, 14th master of the Hiten Mitsurugi style of ultrasonic sword techniques, which cannot fail to kill an opponent. You must refrain from expressing your desires toward me."

Her words, however, were useless, as Kuno'd already fallen into drooling unconsciousness, slumped back against the crater he'd made in the wall.

Ranko turned and gave one of the Tendo girls a low bow. "When the young man awakens, will you inform him that my husband will be only too glad to grant him a duel to the death when he arrives, should this young man desire it?"

Three blank, uncomprehending, blinking stares were her only reply.

Again, unperturbed, the elegant young lady stepped out of the veranda and onto the grass gazing about on the power lines and other aspects foreign to the scenes before her view for the last ten or more years, her face calm while inwardly remarking to herself how odd and foreign it all seemed to her now.

With a sudden narrowing of her eyes, the sword maiden drew a steel blade and made a strike too fast to see in the air.

Turning thirty or so flips to bleed off the knockback energy, Happosai landed easily on the compound wall, inspecting his pipe. Though his chi had kept it from being severed outright, the block he'd used to turn the edged attack into blunt energy had put a deep notch in it. As he looked at it, his pipe fell in half.

Unconcerned, the perverted old master drew another one from inside his gi and lit up, sitting down casually on the wall at a safe distance from the sword maiden he'd so recently tried to grab. "Well, it's been over a hundred years since I've seen an attack like that. You don't get sword training like that these days. I've not seen anything like it since the Meiji revolution, in fact." The old pervert popped back to his feet. "The question is, how did my lovely Ranko-chan come to be taught a killing art?!"

"A killing art?" one of the three Tendo girls repeated. Ranko blinked upon realizing that she was having trouble recalling who among them was who. But her attention remained focused on the perverted old man, who had an oddly clear idea of just how far she could lunge on a stroke, and was staying out of range.

But her senses clawed the whole area around her for other signs of danger, even as she waited for an opening to split the old man into pieces.

"Yes," Happosai took a long drag and blew out a smoke ring. "Don't let her fool you, that sword of hers is death. It can sink a battleship or cut through a bank vault door. I'll have to use more chi next time I need to block her to stop her from slicing my pipe apart. But who turned my lovely Ranko into a killing machine?!?" That last question was shouted out with considerable anger.

"Ranma," one of the Tendos, a tall one, was it Kasumi? asked of her. "You don't know what Grandfather Happosai is talking about, do you?"

"One more," Ranko spoke with cold voice and eyes, still focused on her enemy. "Only one more and my husband will have killed one thousand samurai who've tried to possess me. In some battles, the blood has flown like rain, drenching our hair and clothes till it ran down our faces like water and our garments were soaked clear through as we chopped through an army to break free of some lecherous noble pervert's clutches."

This was NOT the response she'd been expecting. That girl fainted. The other two looked ill. "Wait a minute, Ranma HIKO?!?" One of the remaining girls shouted. "Didn't we just read about him in our history class?!! It was part of our section on the Meiji Revolution! He was some kind of samurai... I think."

"Yes," Happosai once again puffed on his pipe, taking a canny hop to stay out of range of Ranko's careful advance. "Like I said, she's got a sword art that dates back to that era. The big question nobody's answered yet is, where did she come by it? I know by watching her moves well enough to say she's not come by it recently, those are too well practiced to be new. But at the same time, she didn't know this form last week! So somebody come up with an explanation!" the ancient pervert demanded.

"It could be that he's possessed again," one of the Tendo girls muttered. "He's certainly not acting like himself. That much I'll say for certain."

"Oh my, what happened?" The third Tendo girl woke up, sitting up and holding a hand to her head.

"Happosai says Ranma's a killer. What's more Ranma agreed," one of the Tendo girls, possibly the middle one, stated. "Since he says she's more skilled in this new art than she ought to be, I'd say Ranma got himself possessed again."

"Oh dear," the recently wakened one worried, putting a hand delicately to her cheek.

"Could it be a cursed sword, do you think?" The last, finally identified as the youngest of the Tendo girls, spoke aloud, wondering.

"It wouldn't be the first one, that's for sure," grumbled the middle one, crossing her arms. An expression of irritation crossing her features. She apparently dismissed the danger with that thought, considering the mystery solved and everything back to normal.

Ranko would have been glad to participate in this conversation somewhat, but her eyes and attention were focused too tightly on the perverted old master and converting him into ribbons. She hated lustful chi, and that man reeked of it.

The oldest Tendo girl's nose twitched, and she let out a delicate sneeze.

In that instant, Ranko's wonderful blue eyes flashed yellow and she was already across the compound, having slashed through the stone wall before any were aware of it. Any except Happosai this is. He bounced lightly in place on the opposite side of their yard, again on a wall, having moved at a speed beyond anything those present had seen him use before.

"That attack for instance," the ancient pervert commented, appearing unconcerned until you noticed a disturbing amount of concentration on Ranko as she resumed stalking him. "She led off by flashing her eyes in a chi attack that's designed not only to paralyze the body, but to freeze the heart and lungs. It's a killing stroke that can be delivered in an instant at range, but depending on the power behind it, the victim can take minutes to die. Only those with powerful chi can throw it off, all others are dead. She used it as a distraction, just hoping to slow me down for a heartbeat, so she could cut me in half with her sword! So somebody tell me what happened to my pretty Ranko-chan!"

Drawn by the sounds of shouting, two broken men appeared. In spite of how gladly she would've forgotten him, Ranko still recognized one as Genma Saotome. The other had to be his friend, Soun.

The two stank of the rot of laziness and drunkenness that had settled into their chi.

Genma immediately started crying fake tears, clenching a fist as he directed an impious gaze toward heaven. "Oh, how sad to see my only son dressed up as a weak and pathetic GIRL!!"

"Ranma!" Soun Tendo rushed forward, heedless of his life, trying to take the wayward child in his arms. A second later he was running away, shrieking and naked.

Ranko was not the only one puzzled, but she was wondering how he'd survived, not how he'd come to be running away from her. That stroke had been meant to kill, not scare!

Happosai was chuckling. "The Luck of the Coward Technique. It will save a user's life from the most deadly of blows, at the expense of all of his dignity. I invented it based on this guy called Charlie Brown I saw in a comic book once. He dodged baseballs that way." The ancient master puffed twice on his pipe before continuing, "None of which explains why you tried to chop him in half with your blow!"

The old master was standing now, radiating anger.

"RAN... ma?" Genma screeching stupidly to a halt mid-shout as he beheld his child stalking his old master. Normally he'd accompany his shout with a friendly assault, but that came to a stop as he sized up his cursed son, poised like a snake to strike to deadly effect. It wasn't something he'd ever seen in his child before, or anyone for that matter. Sure, the thief may have been subject to a large amount of attacks and even a fair number of beatings, angry ones at that, but never before had he seen someone so ready, so prepared to strike to kill.

Screeching to a halt in puzzlement easily saved his life.

Uncomprehending of how close his closest friend had come to being cut in half on a single stroke, the dishonorable thief leaned over to his blubbering and sobbing friend (who was now huddled behind the rain barrel) and wondered to the broken man who was patriarch of the household, "What's gotten into the boy, Tendo?"

"Nabiki seems to think Ranma's picked up a cursed sword," the eldest of the broken man's daughters supplied for him.

"Ah, yes. That would explain everything," Genma nodded, light glinting off his glasses as he pretended to have deep thoughts. "WELL IN THAT CASE!!"

The man leapt for his son, intending to prove to him the folly of using weapons by the time honored tactic of disarming him. Unfortunately for his plans, he got caught and detained by Happosai, who'd already crammed a potion down his overweight student's throat before the deceitful man had anything to say about it.

Then the perverted master hopped back another ten feet and, with empty potion bottle still in hand, scowled at his disciple and ordered him up. "Well? What are you waiting for? Are you going to disarm your son or aren't you?"

"Yes master," Genma took a moment to grovel, abasing himself before Happosai's feet before resuming his leaping charge at the daintily-dressed yet implacable-stanced son of his. "Hiyaa.. AAAGGGHHH!!!"

Genma's leap and charge cry changed to one more of terror in mid-leap, and the aged and pudgy martial artist landed in seven pieces behind his target, arms and legs separated from his body by a distance measured in yards, and the torso landing in multiple chunks.

"A weapons-user isn't the only one who can be disarmed," Ranko said cryptically, before leaping into her own attack on Happosai, leading off with a volley of vacuum blades and following immediately behind herself, eyes ablaze.

Happosai retreated before her charge, used to keeping his enemies behind him. Ranko was equally accustomed to pursuit and being on the attacking side, but was finding it hard to come within sword range of the incredibly agile old man.

Happosai, it must be said, was surpassing himself as he dodged about the yard. Even his lackluster students were impressed.

Then Ranko felt a sudden spike of warning and countered an attack from behind, only to see that she'd just beheaded her birth father - again. Staring in disbelief at the now walking (and nearly intact, except where she'd removed the head again) corpse nearly cost her the fight as the old master reversed his course to attack her from behind. After trading a flurry of blows with him, the combatants separated long enough for Happosai to chug a potion himself, of identical style to the one he'd given Genma, before he would gloat and explain.

"HA! A Troll's Blood Potion! A drinker can be shredded into confetti and still reassemble to heal perfectly and fight on! You can never tell when a batch has gone sour, though, and so I had to test it before using any myself. I used these constantly to survive the Meiji era."

A quick glance toward the sometimes panda proved that decapitation hadn't slowed him down a bit, and that he'd quickly regained his head, which was reattaching as she watched. It was disgusting, worse in a way than watching a body being taken apart. She also noted the distinct lack of fluids most people sprayed when they got disassembled. Thinking back, he hadn't even gotten her kimono dirty when she'd shredded him that first time.

"So you can't be harmed," she relaxed her stance a little, shifting focus to defense, mindful that just because HE couldn't be hurt effectively right now didn't mean that SHE couldn't.

"Yup!" The old master agreed, stretching and flexing to show off before he produced a lacy and racy negligee. "Now if you'll just slip into this little number..."

"I might agree to do that..." Ranko dropped her fearsome demeanor to offer demurely, "If you'll get me a copy of the Golden Academy's training manuals, the research archives of the Jusenkyo society and Clow Reed's notes." She said, naming the three most significant magical treatise that she'd even heard rumors of.

"Hot Dog! I have one of those on hand!" Happosai shouted, then leaped forward to plead. "Will you give me a peek now, if I get it to you this instant?"

"Oh dear!" the girl twittered theatrically, loosening her obi so her robe started to come apart. "Look at that, my clothing is coming undone."

"Here!" The old master produced a huge, leatherbound book out of nowhere and threw it at the girl's feet, before practically assaulting her. "Now lemmeseelemmeseelemmesee!"

His tirade was cut off by a tanto stuck in his throat and emerging from the crown of his head. "You don't mind me sticking a knife in your skull, just to make sure you weren't bluffing, do you?"

"'S'alright," the hentai muttered, eyes bulging around the knife stuck through his head.

"Good," Ranko withdrew the blade and tightened her robe. "Now once you come back with the other two I'll even take a bath and let you watch, so long as you promise no touching."

"I go!" The hentai shouted, unaware that he'd essentially agreed to terms that he'd never normally accept. But as he had no intention of living up to any restrictions, it made no matter what he'd agreed to anyway.

Ranko was quite calmly readjusting her clothes, after having retrieved and stored the first book. It was heavy, even more so than Ryoga's umbrella, which made her wonder how many pages were in it.

"Ran... AAAGGGHHH!!" Genma cried as he jumped, shouting, at his wayward offspring only to be disassembled into his component pieces in what looked to be a single slash. At the speeds she struck at, it was hard even for an advanced martial artist to tell for sure.

Ranko blinked thoughtfully, before stating, "You know, I've dreamed so often of killing him but never could find a method that would hurt enough to make up for all he's done to me. I think I prefer him this way."

She began to gather Genma strips which she then put to roast on sticks over a slow fire.

"Uhm," Nabiki restarted her brain as the savory smell of roast Genma began to tickle her nostrils. The man's head was stuck in a tree, screaming without lungs to grant voice, while his limbs were all pinned to various walls and nailed there.

Shaking herself out of that horrible observation and averting her eyes, the girl asked, "Are you sure you need to salt him like that?"

"Roast meat needs to be salted," the girl replied calmly. "And though I don't intend to eat him, I want him to be having bad memories to associate with all those times he's stolen food. Besides, putting salt in wounds makes them hurt more," the redhead continued.

Another soundless scream, or was it just a continuation of the first? Nabiki averted her eyes and made sure they STAYED averted this time.

"Besides," Ranko continued in a genial tone, "I was hoping to test out various types of damage. I can see he recovers from sword cuts effortlessly, but what about fire? Acid? Freezing? These all have to be tested. I might discover a way to beat this thing."

"At the cost of killing your father?" Nabiki choked out, unbelieving. This situation had to be some sort of bad dream. A nightmare made more sense than what she'd seen.

"Is that something I should be concerned about?"

Events of the last few moments penetrated through the shock to Kasumi's awareness and she fainted dead away. It looked like she was out for the count this time.

"Besides," Ranko continued affably, as if not noticing the distress she was causing, "he's not really my father. I've got another one now, one that I like much better."

"RANMA!" Akane finally found voice. "YOU STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!!"

Cold hard eyes narrowed at the youngest Tendo. "Akane, that was your name, wasn't it? The only thing you can do to change this situation is to join Genma in little strips here over this fire, and you don't have a potion keeping you alive so I don't think that's something that you want to do. Is it?"

Nabiki grabbed her sister before she could take out her trusty mallet, dragging her back within the shelter of their family home before pinning her with a gaze. "Akane, drop it! You go out there to hammer that boy now and he really will put you in little strips over that fire. Happosai was right, Ranma's become a killer. I hope that's just a cursed sword talking, but I really don't know for sure. One thing you can be sure of, he's tried to chop in pieces all of the people who've attacked him so far. Daddy had a technique that kept him alive, and Mr. Saotome and Happosai had potions, otherwise all three of them would be dead already. Now I want you to think about this clearly: You don't have any such thing protecting you. Don't go out there or you won't come back in one piece!"

For one second, Akane considered what her sister said, actually thought about it. But then she allowed herself to get angry. Anger gave her clarity. Anger took away all of her doubts. Anger made her powerful and blew away all other distracting thoughts or emotions.

Anger was her drug.

"I DON'T CARE!!" Akane shouted, forcing herself out of restraint, past her sister and out the door onto their lawn, mallet at the ready as she pulled up her sleeves.

Only to find that pig-boy had gotten on scene before her.

Seeing her arrive out of the corner of her eye, Ranko smiled and turned to where she could keep both of her opponents in view. Her smile wasn't very nice at all. "Ah, Akane, you're just in time."

"Time for what? To see you picking on Ryoga?" The unexpected (completely without fear) stance of her fiance caused her to pause, the 'charge and mallet' on hold ready for instant action the moment the confusion could be resolved - or discarded by a further surge of anger.

"He's still in one piece, isn't he?" came the cold reply. "I can assure you, that if I'd been 'picking' on him, as you say, you wouldn't be able to pick him up without a basket."

The previously homicidal Ryoga had sudden doubts at that calm pronouncement - so serious!

Back inside of the house, Nabiki shuddered, wanting to cover her ears but unable to stop listening. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that a mess of slightly smoldering Genma scraps wadded into a loose ball was sneaking out the other way during this distraction.

"No," the redhaired girl continued, before indicating the pig-boy who'd paused in his threats on Akane's arrival. "This dishonorable scumbag extorted a promise out of Ranma Saotome on false pretenses - a promise which he then abused for foul and dishonorable purposes."

"W... wha... what are you saying, Ranma?" Ryoga had gone from an aggressive stance to one of backpedaling and wheedling, holding out his hands as if to block any blame from coming his way.

With a cruel smirk, Ranko ignored him. "However, all can be made right by a simple revealing of the truth. As I am NOT Ranma Saotome, I can do so easily. This cheat, this freak, this voyeur and lecher has a Jusenkyo curse that he tricked Ranma into never revealing. Guess what? Your own pet P-chan is none other than Ryoga Hibiki."

Of the MANY responses possible, blind stinking anger, loud rages, or even shrieking in denial as she fled from the scene, the one LEAST likely to be seen, in the sword maiden's opinion, was an arrogant smirk, and a calm, "I know."

Ranko's face went flat. "So, you deliberately cheated on your fiance? You knowingly took another man to your bed? I thought better of you, and I was wrong. Akane Tendo, from this time forth you must beware of me, for I can no longer stand your dishonorable actions."

The redhead crossed the yard to stand before her, and a breeze blew between them.

"Hey! It wasn't like that! I was just trying to get you jealous!" Akane shouted, then something dripped. Heh, just like that pervert. Wherever he went, it rained. The she looked up at the sky to see no clouds anywhere. That was funny, her face was all wet. Where was the water coming from?

Akane paid no attention as Ranko walked calmly out of the yard, passing Ryoga and without facing him paused to whisper, "Hibiki, the next time I see you, you die. Is that clearly understood?"

Ryoga, who unlike Akane had seen (if only just barely) what had happened, nodded in real fear. This wasn't the Ranma he knew! That was for sure.

The sword maiden walked calmly out of the compound, took a look around, and started walking. As she stepped away from the dojo the air of rage fell away like the mask it was and she assumed a cheerful demeanor that was as bright as sunshine and as bubbly as a fountain in a refined and traditional way (that became less and less restrained as she walked further away from the dojo and saw more and more exciting, nearly forgotten things).

Then, Ranko was witness as a giant floating image of a man appeared above Tokyo and challenged someone called the Sailor Scouts to battle him at some airport. A moment of thought and the professional Demon Hunter began to make her way there at once.

Behind her, in the Tendo dojo, Akane finally went and found a mirror and she screamed at seeing all of the blood.

She'd never even felt the cuts.

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Author's Notes:

Why did Ranma/Ranko mostly forget the Tendos? Well, look at Ryoga's entry to the series. Ranma didn't have many friends, especially not growing up, and he felt he and Ryoga were friends. But when Ryoga shows up, Ranma can't recall him at all. And they had been apart only a couple years, not the decade+ that Ranma's been missing from Nerima, from his point of view.

As far as the Tendos were concerned, he's been gone a couple seconds. However, from his, they stopped being important to him once he felt he would never see them again. And, no longer being important, they faded from his mind until he had difficulty recalling their names again. He had other, more pressing, things to be concerned about during that time. Things like staying alive.

As far as him being overpowering, well, that's just not the case. He's even more of a social misfit in 1990's Japan than he was before. His father and Soun hold exactly the same position relative to him that they did before - prime annoyances and hatchers of lame plots. Happosai remains gullible yet untouchable. Ryoga will do as he always does and go out to find some powerup from somewhere that will put him on a more even level, weird rivals will appear out of nowhere, and by and large the balance of power will return to normal. I'm not promising any of that, but can't you just see it happening?

As far as the martial art he now uses, yes it is powerful. But it's out of its proper setting, and Ranma/Ranko will quickly find it hampered by the ban on casual killing. Also, I've already been dropping hints (read: stating outright), that the explosion of non-killing arts has produced a great many things that turned out to have real benefits. So while her new martial art is powerful, it can be outflanked - as I've already demonstrated by both Kuno and Soun surviving blows meant to kill/permanently incapacitate them.

Kuno and Soun aren't the strongest martial artists in the Ranma 1/2 series. Far from it. So if THEY can evade or sidestep death at Ranko's hands, how much more easily could others do so?


	2. Chapter 2

Ruroni Ranko  
Chapter Two

by Skysaber  
aka Jared Ornstead

New author's notes uploaded, with some slight corrections, to Chapter One.

During the mushroom incident events diverge from normal and enemies try to take advantage of our pigtailed hero. Unfortunately for them, attempts to get rid of him often go disastrously wrong.

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It had long been Hiko family policy, ever since the master and student had agreed to the ruse and publicly assumed the identity of a family, that since Ranma was the heir, they would never seek to emphasize the fighting skill of his girl side.

Obviously, she was every bit as well trained, since they were the same person. If anything, the style's emphasis on speed gave his girl side an advantage. However, the cursed martial artist had learned to compensate for the advantages of each by concentrating on its strengths, and so in the end the extended reach and strength of his male body made sure that once all was said and done he was equally talented in both of his forms.

However, as the boy side was the official heir, it was the form he chose whenever he knew beforehand that he was about to get into a fight. So, on finding directions to the airport named by the floating image, Ranma went to assume his boy form.

It wasn't terribly easy.

At first the pretty young redhead went shopping for a kettle, since her own had gotten left at her and her father's camp boiling water for tea while they explored the ice cave. Unfortunately, while she had money, it was all antique, coins long out of public usage and no longer familiar to any average retailer.

That meant she was effectively flat, dead broke.

Perhaps a rare coin dealer would take her currency, but she did not know of any of those around and didn't feel she could spare the time to look. Charming a merchant out of a cup of hot water would have to do for the moment, so she did so - with difficulty.

Her skills on that were more than a little rusty. Flirting was okay only when it was safe. When males of all stripes felt that women were property, making overtures could lead to unfortunate deaths as she had to get her 'husband' or 'father' to defend her virtue. It had just been better to act reserved and not let any of those misunderstandings start.

Still, Japan was rooted closely enough in its past that when a traditionally dressed young lady with elegant, if antiquated, manners asked politely for something, she could generally get some older, grandfatherly type to help out the respectful young thing. Or so she assumed, anyway. Finding such a person in a position to offer her hot water wound up taking too long, so she'd hauled out her rusty flirting skills and gotten a young guy out of the many of those available running shops and stalls to give her some.

Then it was time to change, and she found herself frozen for several seconds by the urbanization of everything denying her ready access to handy bushes or clumps of trees. It took her a moment to locate a place she felt comfortable changing, and even that was to just jump through a park very quickly, leaping between the branches of trees too fast for most eyes to see while making the switch.

Fortunately, a kimono was a pretty universal garment. Unfortunately, unlike Chinese silk clothes, they had patterns and other easily identifiable marks, plus there were no end of seemingly trivial details about how to tweak it for a girl instead of a guy, so regardless of the seeming universality of a proper kimono she had to change more or less entirely when she became a guy.

Thus it was that Ranko Hiko darted into one side of a green and leafy park, and her 'husband' Ranma charged out of the other, just fastening the clasp on the cape he'd gotten as a symbol of his mastery over their family art form.

Strictly speaking, a student of Hiten Mitsurugi style was supposed to kill their teacher to earn their mastery. But that had never sat well with Ranma. So he'd risked death, using a wooden sword instead of a metal one, in an already lethal contest to learn the final technique or die trying.

Obviously, he'd won.

That hadn't been the only Hiten Mitsurugi tradition to die with the creation of the 14th master. What had once been the art of a lonely practitioner became a family style as the previous master had survived and adopted his student, who'd pretended to be married to himself for so long that it was a simple reflex by now to hide behind the facade, even in front of people like the Tendos who knew better, and he knew they knew better.

But one never knew when or where others might be listening.

Ninja were not a modern invention, and the Hiko family had caught them listening in at the oddest times, trying to learn their secrets. And, one of the most delicate and frequently probed secrets they had was Ranko and her marital status. Kuno was FAR from the only nobleman to become crazed with desire for the girl, and by now she'd had to endure more successful kidnapping attempts than Akane.

It was an age where swordsmen were real swordsmen... and ninja were real ninja. No pathetic Sasuke-types among them. Those guys had been every bit as good in their way as the samurai were in theirs. And, like swordsmen, they were available in service to most nobles clans, doing their bidding in their own stealthy way.

When swords failed to get something a noble wanted, stealth was always the next option to try. And an awful lot of nobles had bid their ninja get the redhaired sword maiden for them, for purposes that could easily be imagined.

Or, if you didn't want to just imagine, they had magazines on it in the modern age. A selections of them would give you ideas about the noble's intentions.

Most Meiji-era ninja were too good at their jobs to go leaping in a window, swords and shuriken flying. That turned things into a combat situation, and swordsmen were better at combat situations than ninja were, as a rule.

No, they used sneaky, underhanded, dirty tricks. Things they were best at, to take down samurai without going into combat at all. They did things like poison you instead of lunge at you, screaming and wild-eyed where you could just stab them and be done with it.

Poisonings were something most sword styles were weak on defending against. If it wasn't placed on something obvious (like the edge of a sword they'd be avoiding anyway) there wasn't much a sword fighting art taught you to do against it.

There had been the usual poisoned food, including more than two poisoned apples (at least one of these had been chopped up as an ingredient in something else, and there may have been more than one in that dish, so the count wasn't a sure one). Frankly, tainted food was the least successful method, aside from using poisoned blades. No, gasses, airborne powders and poisoned baths had all been tried to much greater effect. One of the more interesting of the poisoners used an incense burner that was in another room, yet the fumes had been potent enough to work anyway.

By necessity, Ranma had built on the experience of Akane's cooking to detect any strange feelings he got from air or food or water, and so hopefully have enough warning to go elsewhere or do something else. Still, however, his girl side had succumbed to enough knock out drugs administered in different ways to wake up far too often in some nobleman's estate, all bound and clothing optional, usually in the hands of Geisha or similar getting her all washed and perfumed in preparation for the main event.

Thank heaven, her metabolism worked fast enough she'd always gotten over those drugs before anything real substantial happened. And 'hot' bath water of the era was below lukewarm or typically just tepid. They'd not gotten used to the luxury of western plumbing yet, so anything not mountain stream cold was a 'hot' bath, even for most nobles. Still, the experiences had been mind-numbingly horrifying all the same, just from what could have so easily happened if she'd not woken up in time. Those possibilities gave her nightmares sometimes.

And yet, Ranma, 14th master of Hiten Mitsurugi, was only alive because Ranko was the one the ninja were after, and perverted nobles always wanted her unmarked, alive and unspoiled. If they could have found him as a guy they would've killed him, either by deadly poison or paralyzing or knockout agent finished off with silent blades.

But the deadly stuff was harder to administer and easier to detect, not to mention the rather irreversible consequences if you hit the wrong target, and their orders were always to bring in the girl alive, so immediately lethal measures on her close family, when the poisons just might hit the wrong target on a mischance, were generally avoided.

So far, every time he'd felt a hint of poison in his system he'd always been able to either escape or turn female, if he was male at the time. Canteens were handy for that.

Still, her father helped her put a good face on it - he thought those kidnappings were hilarious! He'd never failed to get a good, roaring laugh out of them, even as he chopped his way in through guards to rescue 'her'. And, often enough, Ranma was chopping his own way out to meet him, so in a way it was kinda funny.

Putting such distracting thoughts aside for now, the 14th master of Hiten Mitsurugi arrived at the side of the airport. Police had already closed it off to the public, just as they would have done for a credible terrorist or bomb threat, and now they formed a perimeter.

Ranma had no difficulty at all in evading them to gain an entrance to the buildings beyond. After getting the lay of the land, he chose a good spot to wait, a place on a roof where he had a great field of vision and yet could stay concealed himself. Then he pulled out the book Happosai had given him and prepared to read during the wait.

Just his luck, it was in Chinese. And he'd still never managed to learn that language. Putting it aside, he began to watch for new arrivals, keeping vigil while making arrows out of supplies he'd thought to bring with him.

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At the House of Tendo, home of insanity and uncontrolled emotional outbreaks, the family was sitting around in a circle staring at the offending object Tatewaki Kuno had brought into their household, claiming it would 'cure the problem'.

That was probably the last time they'd go to a Kuno for help. Nobody could even recall the line of so-called reasoning that had led to their doing so in the first place.

Laying on the dining room floor between them, the offending artifact was a simple Lo Pan, a geomancer's compass useful in feng shui to determine chi flows.

Nobody was touching it.

"This has to be related to the source of the problem," Nabiki kept saying. "One moment, we had a cute chibi-Ranma on our hands, the next a cold eyed killer."

"Mushrooms from the Forest of Time, eh?" Happosai once again diverted the subject, absently rubbing his chin as he contemplated that thought. "One can return to youth from a simple meal. Hot Dog! I'll get ahold of those and live for ANOTHER three hundred years! No! I'll live FOREVER!!" The old master popped up to his feet, proudly posing while Genma and Soun popped open firecrackers with victory streamers behind him, weeping openly in unconcealed misery as they waved victory fans for their tormenter.

Ryoga suddenly found himself lifted up by the front of his shirt by the hook of a pipe, with Happosai holding him up from the other end. No mean feat since he was back to his normal sixteen year old body, and all of the tiny master put together had to weight less than the Lost Boy's head.

"Now you!" the old pervert demanded. "You're going to give me those mushrooms, aren't you?"

"No way in Hell! Those are MY mushrooms!!" Ryoga shouted, getting to his feet.

Moments later he was lying, broken and bruised, on the ground, wrapped around with rope until he looked like a mummy and with the Founding Master of Anything Goes standing on his back, between the shoulder blades, sharpening knives.

"I'll tell! I'll TELL!" The Lost Boy screamed in panic, thrashing about uselessly inside of his strong bonds. Tears of panic flew from his eyes.

Happosai hopped down off his prisoner to stand on the grass beside his head where he could gaze down at him with an intimidating glare.

"Hold it right there, sugar!"

A tiny girl's voice cut through that scene. A first no one could believe it was Ukyo's, but staring up at the wall, there she was, five years old in a cute hand-me-down jumper and with a small spatula clutched in each hand. The anger on her face was beyond normal limits.

"ACK!!" Ryoga, in a panic, started to worm-crawl away from her, darting into the house where he tried to get lost in the corridors. Chibi-Ukyo ran right in behind him. But when her foot accidentally touched the mystic compass still laying out in the middle of the floor, she vanished.

A second later this was followed by another flash of light, but nothing appeared or disappeared, so it got discounted quickly. Happosai had already reclaimed his prey, and this time was taking no chances by tying one of those ropes to a stake he'd pounded into the yard.

"So," Nabiki asked while Happosai was occupied. "Care to tell us what that was about?"

"Uh, hehehe, I don't know what you mean," Ryoga lied badly, sweating bullets.

FLASHBACK

Wandering about in a desolate wilderness, Ryoga had camped overnight in a cave, carefully tending his tray of growing mushrooms. Then, at last, when morning came he took and ate one that he'd grown to precisely the right size to restore him to his lost age.

When it worked, he reared back and began gloating at the top of his lungs.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I've got you now, Ranma! At last you will be utterly defeated! I'll have my revenge on you, just wait and see!!"

"What revenge are you talking about, sugar?"

Ryoga glanced over his shoulder and all his limbs splayed out in startlement, as his 'desolate wilderness' turned out to be a pair of potted plants, and the cave a dumpster that Ukyo threw her garbage away in. She'd only just walked out with a bag of refuse now.

Resuming the confident stance he'd held only just a moment before, Ryoga directed his gaze toward the sky, clenched a fist and pretended righteousness as he claimed, "At last, after so much suffering, trial, toil and pain, I've got Ranma just where I want him! Right now he's stuck as a five year old child, and only the magic mushrooms in my possession can cure him! I'm so going to make him suffer! I'm..."

This tirade was cut off by the flat of a giant spatula impacting his head. Hard.

Eyes moist from the pain, head shoved over to where it was between his ankles with the rest of his body doubled over in between, he noticed Ukyo going through his pack to find and retrieve the package of small mushrooms accidentally cooked in the Tendo bath. The very ones he'd force-fed a sample of to Ranma, to shrink him down to a child's body.

He'd only carried them away from the Tendo home to avoid leaving any trace of the special magic plants behind, in case someone thought of some way to cure Ranma even with cooked plants that wouldn't grow to larger sizes that would provide a higher age.

Grinning down at him cutely, Ukyo posed with her spatula slung casually over her shoulder. "Sorry, sugar, but Ranchan's my fiance, and I can't let you just beat him up without trying to get him out of whatever trap you've got him into this time."

"Oh yeah?" Ryoga came surging to his feet, angry eyes blazing as he gave her an uppercut that shoved one of those small mushrooms from her hand into her mouth. "Then you can JOIN HIM!!!"

A second later, a Chibi-Ukyo was looking at him in shock, draped in her suddenly over-large clothes.

END FLASHBACK

"Hehe, I don't know what you're talking about." Ryoga lied to Nabiki.

She scowled at him, but it was Happosai's turn as he'd finished staking the Lost Boy down so he couldn't move around too much.

Soun started to heat hot pokers in a fire while Genma, in panda form, was pumping the foot pedal of a grinding wheel, sharpening knives, hooks and other implements for their master, who was standing, glaring down at the newly pinned Lost Boy. "There's only one question I'm going to ask you, boy," Happosai breathed steam in real anger. "And that is 'how much are you going to suffer before you give me what I want?'" He shouted, proving that Soun was NOT, in fact, the inventor of the Demon Head technique.

"I'LL TELL!!" Ryoga yelled, blubbering and whimpering. "I've got them all in my pack!"

"Really? SWEETO!" The ancient pervert dropped the menacing act as though it had never been and, eyes wide and twinkling as innocently as a child's toy, made a leap over to loot that backpack... before sailing past the empty space and striking face first into a wall.

"Hey, where did your pack go?" Akane asked of Ryoga, emphasis arrows pointing to the empty place it had been up until a moment ago.

"Uh?" Ryoga sweatdropped in terror as his eyes bugged out, seeing the empty space his backpack had once filled. Then he began shouting a wordless cry of terror as Happosai rose out of his stance to become three stories tall, staring down at the Lost Boy with eyes turned crimson red from anger, glowing against a backdrop of angry, purple lines that his darkened body radiated.

"Aaaiieeeaaaaahhh!!!"

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Ukyo stopped running only once she'd crossed several blocks and taken shelter in a secure corner of an abandoned building. While far from perfect, it offered her shelter long enough to swiftly and efficiently search the pack, cataloging all of the items within and at last getting a seed crop of the powerful magic mushrooms.

Finding one of exactly sixteen inches, part of a batch Ryoga had grown for his own use, to have spares in case of an accident, the ninja lowered her mask and ate one, getting her age reduced from somewhere in her mid twenties to sixteen once again, her body shrinking slightly and growing softer, losing some of the definition a touch of maturity adds to a young woman as she turns into an adult.

Those years had been hard won, and almost stopped accumulated more than once, but she was glad to be rid of them for now. During this era, sixteen was the age she was supposed to be, and if there was one thing they taught a ninja it was how to blend in to the environment and appear to be something that doesn't draw any attention.

However, incomplete as her training had been, she had to congratulate herself that on her entirely unanticipated return she'd still somehow managed to keep anyone at the Tendo compound from noticing her come back (or steal Ryoga's pack where she knew those special mushrooms lay), although she was certain she had evaded the old man's senses only because he was prone to distraction and already involved in something else.

A ninja also learns not to overburden herself, carry unwise or incriminating equipment about where it could tip off others or be discovered. Having found what she wanted, Ukyo made a cache, burying the rest of Ryoga's gear in a secure place, leaving no outward sign of its presence, relying on memory alone to tell her from nearby landmarks where it was.

She could come back for it later, after she'd stopped by her restaurant for clothes appropriate to this era, and a chance to stash the ninja garb.

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This was Nerima, where secrets don't stay secret long, particularly not when Nabiki has anything to say about it. But the reason the Cat Cafe had no debts to the Tendos was that Cologne was a crafty old bird, who was every bit as good deflecting or defeating the middle Tendo and her schemes as she was at running a profitable business in the middle of battle-torn Nerima.

Which was to say, very, very good.

The Chinese Amazons had been around for three thousand years. They had been around for virtually all of the turbulent periods in a war-torn China's history. Having survived them proved that they knew a thing or two. Cologne had also lived through turbulent times herself, being over three hundred years old mean that she'd lived through quite a few of them. More to the point, she'd learned something from those periods of strife.

The Chinese had their own ninja, and those had been sent against the Amazons more times than they knew how to count. Modern armies, local warlords, evil sorcerers, all had tried to subdue or eliminate the Amazons.

Sometimes the Amazons vanished, only to reappear later. Often the leaders of whatever force was being used against them changed their minds (there were many more formulas of their special shampoo than just the two dealing with memory), sometimes they came to agreements, and more times than you would think the Amazons simply fought off their attackers.

While merely a few thousand strong, every Amazon was a fighter. And while none of the younger crowd were up at Ranma's level, all of them were above Akane's, most far above her. Also, they had more elders than anyone suspected, with skills and talents out of the range of even most dedicated martial artists.

The Chinese Amazons also had a seemingly limitless supply of magical artifacts. This was no accident. They'd learned to detect them, using a more advanced version of the chi senses that had been taught to Ranma and Seijuro Hiko. And quite often they'd acquired magic objects that opponents had sought to use against them, adding those to the catalog of special magic items they created for themselves.

That was a versatile and effective force, capable of dealing an astonishing amount of damage, evading superior forces, and canny and mobile as anything, while very capable of operating long term independent of bases or supplies.

The last time they'd fought the Red Army they'd outright humiliated it. Oh, they had lost a few empty towns in the process, but they'd expected that and moved everything except their lands and walls out into secure and very hidden locations. They had enough masters of Hidden Weapons style they could practically carry their entire villages inside of their robes.

After that humiliating defeat and the assassination of quite a few of their leaders, the communist party had agreed to granting the Amazons independent nation status if they'd just stop hurting them.

But it wasn't a secret to either party in that peace deal that if the Amazons had wanted they could easily have brought down the communist government and replaced it with something more to their liking. The Red Chinese were now trying very hard to pretend that the Amazons didn't exist, for fear of invoking their wrath once again.

Which is not to say they could not be defeated, but those who did most often found themselves married into the tribe and their techniques and powers added to their own - an arrangement that had helped refine the Amazon fighting (and magical) styles for over three thousand years.

It still wasn't perfect, but Cologne liked to think they'd get there eventually.

So, as she was hopping home from sitting in on a City Council meeting (never hurt to know what they were doing, even if they took an interminably long time getting over-long and complicated phrases out to describe simple things), when chi-senses which had been used to save her own life from assassination more than once detected a nearby magical object buried in unmarked dirt of a construction yard she'd been passing by.

It might look casual to passers-by, but she had carefully measured the radiation and tested the surroundings several times before she hopped over to dig away some dirt and pull out Ryoga's backpack.

When she saw mushrooms growing out of the fabric of it, she smiled and raced back to her restaurant.

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Well, the sides have arrived. thought Ranma, as he watched the Sailor Scouts and their enemy appear and begin their speeches. Having seen more or less the same thing in personal honor duels, it did not strike him as strange that both chose to make short monologues cataloging the other side's faults and crimes.

However, by the time this Jedite person had sent an airplane to try to run the Scouts over, the observing martial artist had learned all he wanted to know about the little girls.

Earnest, but unskilled was his assessment. However, despite their lack of battle awareness and tactics, they had obvious magical powers that were quite impressive, and their foe was obviously no friend to mankind.

Ranma rose to his knees, out of concealment, and raised his bow. Archery was not his best attack. However, using the Godlike speed of Hiten Mitsurugi style on just his arms was easier than motivating his entire body in those amazing leaps and dashes. Situated on a building as he was, he had enough distance from the fight that he could get practically all of his arrows into the air at once.

The wandering samurai had prepared sixty arrows, each of slightly different materials out of the hopes that this creature, like so many others, would have a material weakness, like cherry wood or holly. But a number of woods and tips had been tried. Each arrow was different from the last in hopes of finding such a weakness by chance. The only thing they shared were the sutras painted on them in hopes of an extra punch against an obviously magical foe.

He was just firing the last two as the first one hit.

This guy, whoever he was, (hadn't someone called him Jedite?) was certainly a very powerful sorcerer. Ranma hadn't fought any of those, yet. When the first arrow impacted it was upon a nearly transparent shield that flashed into visibility when struck. The second and subsequent arrows followed in fast succession, each getting repelled in turn a fraction of a second after one another.

Those arrows were striking fast enough to be comparable to machine-gun bullets, however. And they did each have a very small portion of magical energy, as Ranma had done his best to turn them into Ofuda. The first dozen got shattered without breaking through. The next dozen had a very slight measure of penetration as they struck those weakened wards, sinking tip-deep into the Dark General's shield. The next dozen sank deeper yet, and the fourth struck nearly half their length through the shield before it repelled and destroyed them, minute fractions of a second later.

What the last dozen arrows might or might not have achieved was moot, as from the sidelines rushed in a blur that darted past the possessed airplane, cutting in half the landing gear and bringing it to a halt, without a pause in its own rush before the lunge dissected the Dark Kingdom General in a 'Z-slash', cutting him from shoulder to shoulder, then shoulder to hip, then hip to hip, right through his previously weakened shield, while Jedite's attention was focused in the opposite direction.

Standing there as the body of the blond-haired villain came apart in a truly gory display was Seijuro Hiko. Pausing only long enough to note the cherry-red glow of his sword for future consideration, the 13th Master of Hiten Mitsurugi reared back and yelled, "Ranma, my son. I know your arrow technique. Come show yourself to your absent father!"

"Is he really dead?" Serena took a step forward to lean around the swordsman. As she caught a glimpse of what was left of Jedite, she turned green and quickly ducked back behind the back of the large, muscular man who'd done this.

Sailor Moon didn't think about it. She was, in many ways, still a child and with a child's viewpoint on aspects such as trust. Jedite was a bad man, of that she was clear. He'd tried often enough to kill her or hurt her friends she no longer had any doubt of that. The Dark General had also threatened to burn down the city if they hadn't come here to face him. So, at least on some level, she'd already accepted that the Sailor Scouts might have to kill him.

However, the magic attacks the Sailor Scouts used killed clean. Seeing him a gory pool of messy pieces was not anywhere on her agenda for today.

On the other hand, this man who'd done it just radiated kindness and strength, the sort of aura a small teenage girl instinctively trusts. In truth, despite his having just killed a man the most impulsive Scout automatically viewed Seijuro as a sort of fatherly, masculine figure she wished her own dad could be. And, it could not be overlooked, the man who'd died had been trying very hard to hurt her personally at the time of his death, and part of the attack that did Jedite in had also saved her. Then, immediately after the Dark General had perished, the swordsman had ceased showing hostility to anyone.

Automatically filing this person beside Tuxedo Mask in her 'Trust on Sight' category, Sailor Moon concentrated on getting her rebellious stomach back under control and cared not a button about any possible danger from the samurai.

Girls, especially teenage girls, are influenced more by the attitudes of their friends than they'd ever like to admit to anyone. Seeing Serena automatically accept this stranger who'd just casually appeared and killed a man, Amy and Rae were inclined to accept him also. However, while Amy was the brainy one, Rae especially had a touch more caution than the rest.

That might have had something to do with a Dark General invading her home and nearly doing in herself and her grandfather, of course.

"Excuse me, sir," Rae stepped forward pertly, unaware of her legs being shown off to fabulous advantage by her short red skirt and glittering high heels. "But who are you? And why did you help us?"

Seijuro turned his face away just a fraction from watching his son jump off the roof of an airport building and being to bound their way, just enough to catch Rae's gaze with his and hold it for a steady heartbeat, before answering, "I am Seijuro Hiko, 13th master of the Hiten Mitsurugi style of sword techniques. Approaching us is my son, Ranma Hiko, the 14th master of our family style. As for why we are here," here he paused to laugh, a full belly roar of hearty amusement. With his son arriving, Seijuro turned to face the Sailor Scouts directly, automatically accepting Ranma's presence at his back.

Waving a mighty arm to indicate the airport, the 13th master answered, "Why, this barbarian declared war on a city! Why does it surprise you that others would answer his challenge? My son and I, and his wife, are all Devil Hunters."

The words, "and his wife" seriously bummed out the three Sailors who'd begun to appreciate the quintessential manliness of the young male who'd just walked in among them to rejoin his father.

"But..." Mercury stuttered, blinking rapidly through her pale blue visor, "my computer says he is only sixteen. How can he be married?"

"I arranged it!" Seijuro proclaimed boastfully, proud of himself and unashamed to admit it. Catching their collected disappointed frowns the young maidens didn't even know they were making, however, he performed a quick mental measurement of the girls' hips and busts, doing a rapid calculation from there about future child-bearing capacity. When he spoke, he adopted a kinder tone.

"Tell me, none of you are from noble families, are you?" Seeing three girls each shake their heads somewhat nervously, he gave a nod in return. "Then, should any of you wish it, my son will be proud to take any of you on as mistresses."

"Father!" Ranma let out an anguished squeak of surprise, blushing to the roots of his hair, and glancing quickly over three girls who were doing the same.

Seijuro spoke back over his shoulder to him, casually at ease and confident of himself and his decision. "Ranma, my son, you and I have fought outside marriages for your wife for years now. It amuses me, and we shall continue to do so. But as you disappeared at the ice cave I came to realize that my future was permanently tied up in you. I have already outgrown my original purpose for living. There must be another, and that reason is you, and the family you must create if our clan and martial art style are to live on."

Surprising those who would've known him before, Ranma accepted this and stopped objecting. But none of the Scouts present were aware of how remarkable an event this was for them to witness.

Rotating smoothly about to face his son, Seijuro took a few steps to place a loving hand on his shoulder and to gaze seriously and soberly into his eyes. "However, it has come to a time when we must face that your beloved wife is incapable of bearing you children. Thus, for the sake of our future, both for our clan and our Art, you must take additional brides."

"But... isn't that illegal?" Amy was the surprising Sailor who found her voice enough to offer any opinion on this.

Seijuro offered her a kind smile over his shoulder before facing the girls and gesturing with one massively muscular arm. "I have yet to stand on any ground where I could not walk an hour and have the laws change. Every town, every village, every petty noble has their own laws and rules. Perhaps it is not the law you seek to change, but walk far enough and it will be. Somewhere on this Earth there is a stretch of land where I can stand to give my son multiple brides. For the sake of my clan, I would walk there."

A blushing Amy typed into her computer, did a search, and was surprised. "He's right. I had no idea how many places this was legal."

"None of this gives us any reason to be interested!" Rae broke in, hotly insisting. An arrangement of some sort with such a hot hunk would ordinarily be interesting, but this was, in her opinion, exactly the wrong way to propose one. Really! The guy was already married for Pete Squeaks!

Ranma's adoptive father, far from feeling offended, was actually amused as he directed a question to the fiery Sailor Scout, "And what would you regard as a valid reason for interest?"

"A guy is supposed to court a girl, make sure she's interested! They are supposed to go out on dates and get to know one another and fall in love!" The fiery one blurted out in the heat of emotion, before calming somewhat and growing introspective, speaking of her dreams as much as her opinions. "Then he's supposed to show that he can provide for her, and prove that he can be tender and caring when she needs him to be. Then, he should be able to stand up for her and defend her."

This last got said in response to memories of her own father, who'd abandoned her to live at the temple, and wasn't there to soothe her when she got teased or insulted, ignored or mistreated.

"I'm sure you'll find my son far from lacking on that last count," the 13th master stated with an amused grin. "He's among the deadliest swordsmen of the world."

"Yes, but it shouldn't just be about that! They've got to learn how to be together and love each other, bear one another's burdens and rely on each other!" Sailor Mars declared with utmost resolve of inner feeling. Both other girls were nodding in fervent agreement with her.

Coming from an age where most girls were happy to get married at all, and couldn't afford the luxury of arguing terms, Seijuro couldn't help but be amused at the Scout's demands. A princess would regard that price as too high to demand for a marriage where he came from. Perhaps there was more to these girls than good hips and magical knowledge. They certainly set the price high enough for there to be.

Then he surprised them all by laughing aloud, before shouting, "Done! Very well, we agree to your terms. Ranma shall begin to court you at once, getting to know you so you may fall in love. Please direct us to your homes, so he can know where to go to pick you up for these dates. He will start tomorrow at noon."

"We have school until early afternoon," a blushing Amy admitted, not sure how she should be feeling about any of this.

"Book learning?" Seijuro raised an eyebrow, then rubbed his chin. "Strange to give it to girls, but if your parents can shoulder the expense, that speaks well for them. You are an unusual bunch, and may rate status as full wives."

He slapped hands together decisively. "Very well. Tell me when this schooling of yours ends. He shall pick you up immediately after."

"But what if that's not what we want?" Serena blurted out in unexpected resistance.

"That is what the courtship will decide, will it not?" the man asked reasonably.

"Uhm," she had no response to this.

"Have you any other immediate prospects?" Master Hiko asked, not unkindly.

"Uh, no..." none of the girls could deny that they hadn't, at least right now.

Seijuro smiled. He knew he had them. There were all sorts of responses those three girls COULD have given, but Seijuro was an unstoppable force that had (admittedly after years of trying) gotten meekness out of Ranma, of all people, who was standing beside him, voicing no objections while his father did what fathers were good for and decided his future for him (and trusting completely his adoptive father to do exactly right what Genma had royally screwed up - YEARS had been spent building that trust).

As young girls, unsure of themselves and their futures, they didn't stand a chance as Master Hiko completed his catch. "Then, so long as your courtship with my son continues, you may count on the swords of the Hiten Mitsurugi to defend you from your enemies. And in return, you will teach us what you know of magic."

Seijuro considered the prospect a total win. The girls had obvious magical powers such as his family had been searching for for years. Obtaining access to this was worth many months of wandering. And, if the girls were truly reprehensible or hid dark secrets the Hikos could not abide, they could end the courtship at once and be free of any obligation.

The Sailor Scouts had agreed before they even knew what they were doing, and allowed the boy and his father to show them to their homes, even accepting a schedule of martial arts training so their future opponents would not so endanger them.

Ranma would be teaching them his unarmed fighting style, at least to start. They wouldn't be trusted with the swords arts until after he'd married them, supposing things got that far.

Laying on their beds that night, the three Scouts reflecting back on this concluded that this might work out well for a while. It wasn't like they were about to leap into marriage or anything, just a few dates, is all. And until they called it off they had some extra, proven support they could count on against the Negaverse.

And, if it really wasn't working out, they could call it off at any time, right?

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Returning from the penthouse mansion where they had delivered Amy, the two martial artists were stopped in their progress by a voice calling out from above. "Ranma Saotome! I call on you to fill a debt owed between our clans!"

"Ucchan?" Ranma looked up with some amount of puzzlement on his face, which then immediately brightened. "Ucchan!" He'd made a carving of her face early on in his training under his new adoptive father, and kept it in their cottage. "How is my best friend? Hey, is there anything I can do for you?"

"Well, yes, Ranchan, there is," the Kuonji girl came down off of the rooftop she'd occupied while making the challenge, sheathing her spatula back over her shoulder. "But it's not exactly a story for any and all ears, if you know what I'm saying."

"I understand exactly what you mean," he replied. "We should find some private spot. We were just looking for a place to spend the night. Would you care to join us?"

Ukyo's eyes went to and from the tall man beside Ranma, but she said nothing.

"Of course, how rude of me," Ranma bowed, introducing her former master, "This man is Seijuro Hiko, my adoptive father. Pleased am I to introduce you to him. Father, this is my oldest friend, Ukyo Kuonji."

Seijuro was not a man fond of repressing himself when he thought it was to no purpose. Ordinary dangers meant nothing to him, so he feared not to do away with tact when bluntness suited him or could throw a potential opponent off. However, he could be very wise and respectful when he wasn't going out of his way to embarrass a student. He had a fully developed set of polite manners. It was just that his even more fully developed sense of humor sometimes consumed them.

Placing a heavy hand on Ranma's shoulder, he directed a steady gaze at Ukyo and asked, "My son is already married, but his wife doesn't give him enough sex. When can you start fulfilling that duty?"

Ranma's flesh turned red and he partially melted in embarrassment.

Amazingly, Ukyo didn't even blink, meeting Seijuro's direct gaze with her own. "I can start right now, if you like. But I'd prefer a measure of privacy so I could do a better job."

"Done!" Seijuro cried with vast amusement, lifting an arm as he declared it. "You can be his second wife, and add a bit of stability to his life. Frankly, his first one is a bit of a tease, never getting him off right."

Ranma hid his blood-red face in his cherry red hands and tried not to die from shame.

"So! From this day you must call yourself a Hiko," Seijuro put his remaining hand on Ukyo's shoulder, still not releasing Ranma's from his grip. "We can find a priest if you like, to formalize it, or we can just perform a ceremony ourselves."

"A private ceremony will be fine," Ukyo did show a small blush. "I'm not unused to the idea of being a second wife. But the laws these days are such we might have trouble finding a priest who'd allow it."

"Nonsense!" Seijuro cried, greater than life and loving it. "There's always some noble who'd allow it. We'll just look for one. If an official ceremony would make you happy, then such you shall have. I ask only you consider yourselves married as of this moment. As clan head, I declare it done, and shall so record on our register this evening."

Ukyo's reply was a respectful, even a relieved, bow, "Thank you, my father-in-law. May I ask who is the First Wife? Would I know her name?"

"Father is enough," Seijuro told her, beaming proudly behind his smile. "And, if you are half the friend my son told tales of, I'm sure you know her name. She is Ranko, formerly of the Saotome clan."

A crack appeared in her stoic demeanor, then Ukyo sputtered a brief second before busting a gut laughing. She laughed only a moment before the mortification of the groom caused her to regain control of herself. Still, it was with a bright smile that she asked, "So, Ranchan, you married your cursed side?"

Ranma was busy inspecting the scenery, trying to hide his reactions. Still, he gave her a small glance before dropping his gaze to the floor. With a small shrug, he whispered, "It was either that or have her married to some perverted creep by force."

"Enough of this!" Seijuro declared, once again placing a proud hand on the brown-haired chef's shoulder. "Tonight you are my daughter! We will speak of other things until we find a place to rest the night."

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Author's Notes:

Well, I felt so grateful for the positive response to the first chapter of this that I immediately sat down to write another chapter of it, as a form of thanks.

I hope you all had a very merry Christmas, and just wanted to assure you that I DO intend to keep writing and posting.


	3. Chapter 3

Ruroni Ranko  
Chapter Three

by Skysaber  
aka Jared Ornstead

During the mushroom incident events diverge from normal and enemies try to take advantage of our pigtailed hero. Unfortunately for them, attempts to get rid of him often go disastrously wrong.

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The trio of martial artists found a place to stay, an old inn sleeping quietly amid forest and spring (and not too far from downtown Nerima - odd, that) called the Mirror Mansion that was willing to give them shelter for the night. Upon entering, coming in out of a heavy rain, they immediately excused themselves to go upstairs to hear Ukyo's story.

"Okay, Ucchan. We've got privacy. What did you want me to do for you?" Ranko stated once they'd set down their heavy packs, all in one room for now.

"One second, Ranchan," the pretty little okanomiyaki chef busily checked the room, its corners and particulars, finding one electronic bug and putting a cork in an old speaker-tube system originally put in place so the residents of the room could call down to the servant's level for lunch or someone to open their window, or whatever.

Once that was done she plunked herself down to sit crosslegged on the floor, where the two swordsmasters joined her.

"Okay, I know this may sound odd to you, but it's not been only a day or so since I last saw you, it's been closer to twenty years for me." She sighed, holding her chest as tears graced the corners of her eyes, gazing fondly on her Ranchan. "I suppose I should start from the beginning, shouldn't I?"

The two swordsmen nodded, and Ucchan launched onto her mighty tale. "Ranchan, on what was yesterday for you, Ryoga came to my restaurant, boasting about how he was going to destroy you. He claimed to have shrunk you down to a five year old body and he was going to try to kill you, his advantage was he had already restored himself to sixteen. I butted in, hammering him down so I could get the magic mushrooms that were supposed to cure you. But he retaliated, and during his uppercut he shoved one of those mushrooms down my throat, shrinking me down to a five year old too."

Ranchan nodded, and having his undivided attention was getting her a trifle flush, even if he was in girl form at the time he gave it. She suppressed a pleased giggle with difficulty and went on, "Anyway, once he'd done this he took his pack and ran off. I had to get changed to child's clothes before I followed, and I caught up to him at the Tendo home. I chased him inside, but before I knew it I wasn't any place I knew. I was running through a burning house with soldiers and stuff outside. At first I thought he'd gotten me lost, but as it turned out, I was in another era of time altogether, and I don't think even the Lost Boy gets THAT lost!"

She sighed to steady herself, drinking in her Ranchan's features before continuing, "I left the house, evading some spearmen who tried to keep me inside by jumping over their heads. Then I tried to figure out where I was. Some samurai found me, and before I knew I was displaced in time I'd already told them my name."

Her calm, clear eyes met those of her currently female groom, speaking of other things while her love for him shone through. "You've got to understand, it was an age were few enough people HAD last names, and those who did so had them because of some powerful clan affiliation. My clan was in service to a powerful one, so when I'd introduced myself as Ukyo Kuonji, they got me on a couple of horses with them and rode the couple hundred miles to deliver me safely to my clan, hoping for reward money for my safe return."

Seijuro got forgotten as Ukyo increasingly got absorbed in telling her story to her beloved Ranchan. "On the way there I'd learned I was all of the way back during the Meiji Revolution, and I knew I was stuck as a child unless I could find more magic mushrooms. So once we got to our clan's castle I did my best to prove I was a Kuonji, and if it wasn't for my martial arts I don't think I could've succeeded. It wasn't exactly what they practiced," here she blushed. "But it was close enough for them to take me in and pay a reward to those samurai who'd rescued me."

Blush forgotten, she went back to studying her Ranchan's face, which was equally intent on providing undivided attention to her. "At the end, they took me for a love child left behind by one of the clan's wandering members, and only partly trained. I was glad for it, as that assumption saved my life. It was not a good time to be a child alone. There were gangs of slavers and bandits all over."

She saw a small quirk of her Ranchan's lips at that comment and resolved to ask him about it later. "Anyway, the clothes I was wearing were expensive by the standards of the time, if a little strange, and of course I knew how to read - which stood out as unusual, even if my calligraphy wasn't perfect. So they took me as the offspring of an actual clan member instead of a retainer, and that meant I got to be completely taught our family style."

Her manner changed. And, biting her lip, she lowered her gaze. "My family are ninja, Ranchan. As my oldest and closest friend, as well as my husband, you deserve to know. I shouldn't be saying it, even so... there are rules against letting even someone as close to me as you know what I am. Ah, I... I'll understand if you don't want me, now you know."

She was silenced by a touch on her chin, lifting her head up to meet the cheery gaze of Ranchan. No condemnation or fear was found anywhere in her happy smile to the scared and careful search Ukyo performed for any hint of rejection.

Instantly she'd blurred across the floor, and finished the story in Ranko's lap, her arms wrapped around his presently girly frame as the chef spoke into the crook of his neck, crying softly with relief. "There's not much else to say, Ranchan. I got trained in my family style of ninjitsu, of which the okanomiyaki parts were just a handy disguise, a watered down form adopted during some disarmament or other."

She sobbed, but seemed to gather steam now that the worst confession was over, speaking almost eagerly into Ranko's neck, "I wasn't the Kuonji clan's best ninja, but I was competent. Around my fifteenth birthday they sent me a 'gift' to my room, and she was a girl, so they discovered that I'd been female that whole time." She giggled into his shirt. "I'd disguised it as long as I could because girls had no rights back then. But getting uncovered caused a big stink and ended my formal martial arts training. They weren't progressive enough to want to teach a girl, well, not any more than they'd already taught me anyway. So they let me stew a couple of months while they decided what to do with me, and in the end I kinda got lucky."

Ucchan gathered two fistfuls of Ranko's shirt as she made her next admission. "A more powerful clan beat our sponsor on the field and demanded hostages of them and all of their retainers. Our clan head reasoned that if I could fool my own family for so long I could fool anyone else into thinking I was a boy, so I got a samurai haircut and a change of clothes and got sent, with a woman told to act as my mother, to live under the roof of another feudal lord, pretending to be a younger boy of high clan standing - whose life was forfeit if our clan broke the terms of the truce. I got sent as I was disposable. No one knew what to do with me anyway, so it was considered a small loss if I'd died."

Ranko began tenderly, if a touch awkwardly, patting Ukyo's back in a comforting way. "It's a harsh era, Ucchan. Loads of cruel decisions like that got made."

She wiped some tears from her eyes and finished out the story, "In alot of ways I got so lucky, so many times, Ranchan. It could've been so much worse than it was. As a hostage, my keepers were expected to teach me how to be a proper samurai, and they did try. I never quite got the whole stoic thing down right, but I became decent with a sword, and I can ride and shoot with the best of them. I was able to keep my gender a secret for as long as I was there, and I'd kept my ninja skills sharp, so when my clan broke the truce I was able to sneak out. Then, having nowhere else to go, it was back to my clan. They debated what to do with me, and marrying me off was high on their list."

Ukyo hiccupped, and desperately tightened her hold on her beloved. "Only I wasn't hot property, Ranchan, too rough and with all the wrong training to make a respectable wife, and too valuable an operative to just throw away on a man who had no standing. So I had to come to face the fact that I'd eventually have to accept being someone's second wife, if not lower down in status like fourth or fifth, or just stuck as an official mistress, which was more likely as I had none of the bridal training a real catch back then would've demanded."

Seijuro watched calmly, arms crossed and not interrupting as she sobbed into his heir's shoulder. "I wasn't young either. I'd grown to twenty-five, and reached my expiration date as a woman during the debates over what to do with me. So I was almost certainly going to be tossed away as a mistress to somebody foul, and used to spy on him, when I got lucky once again; While they were figuring out what to do with me the clan was sending me out on various assignments. So I was on a mission trailing these two martial arts Devil Hunters, observing them to see if they could be hired, when I followed them into an ice cave and this really old Yuki Onna hit me with a snowball. I reappeared at the Tendo dojo, where I'd vanished from in the first place. I knew enough to stay hidden, and steal Ryoga's backpack that had those mushrooms in it, before I escaped. So I took one to be sixteen again and sought you out, hoping you'd accept me as a wife. And here I am!"

She directed a gaze, filled with adoration, into the eyes of the young man (who was currently a girl) she was presently holding, who began chuckling.

"Hey, Ranchan, what's so funny?"

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"So practically the same thing happened to you!" Ucchan cried out in astonishment, then regarded Seijuro carefully. "Wow. At least you got lucky in the family department." Her brown hair flew as she shook her head, "And to think, that was YOU I was tracking in that cave! How strange is that?"

"And I was worried that I'd end up getting married to some simpering young thing who'd never understand me!" Ranko laughed, sharing her woes with her oldest and dearest friend. Rubbing the back of her head, Ranko added in a relaxed, companionable way, "It's kinda weird, though, that you came to confront us about taking you as Ranma's bride, when my father interrupted to offer you the same thing before you could even ask."

"A happy coincidence, Ranchan. And I, for one, am delirious with joy. You should've seen some of those potential husbands they were thinking of making me mistress to!" The maiden's long hair flew as she shook her head in delighted relief. "I cried on my pillow all night, every night, wishing I'd gotten you instead. You may be a little rough, Ranchan, but nothing about you makes you a monster. You're actually really sweet, and kind and caring and the more I found out what the alternatives were the more desperately I'd wanted YOU! You're a real hero, Ranchan, probably the most honest and courageous guy that I've ever met and at the same time one of the gentlest, too. I'd have been lucky if some of those men they'd considered for me would have treated me as well as they'd have kept a dog!"

"No coincidence, daughter," Seijuro calmly informed her, accompanying them down the stairs in the western style dwelling. "I knew of you through tales my son told me. So I knew beforehand of the promised marriage, and I was agreeable to it. I know of his great fondness for you, which is superior to what most grooms hold for their brides, and had heard from him how desperately you wanted this match. As I desired for him to start providing suitable heirs, all our wishes could be fulfilled from the moment you arrived."

"What of the other girls? The three magic users you promised Ranma is to court, starting tomorrow?" Ranko asked humbly. If Ukyo's own perceptions had not been so skewed by living so many years in a difficult period of the past, she would have noted and wondered at the change. Her Ranchan actually sounded respectful, something she'd never heard from him before.

Though, because of her own changes and present, great relief, she didn't notice.

With a tiny gesture, Seijuro cut off that line of questioning, indicating they would talk about it later, as they came closer to the old man who'd let them in.

The old caretaker of the house met them at the bottom of the steps and began the speech he'd meant to give as he'd welcomed them indoors, carrying a lit candlestick as the house didn't seem to have electrical power. "Welcome to the Mirror Mansion. We don't get many guests here, so you're welcome to stay for as long as you like. It'll be pleasant to have fresh company."

Here the man's withered face gave them a foreboding expression as they entered the main room on the ground floor. "Just remember to be careful. You never know when you may slip on a banana peel and fly toward the forbidden curtain ahead and glimpse the terrible secret beneath! If that should happen..."

The old man, who'd been gazing about in reminiscence about the old house, gave a startled, "GYAAAAAA!" as he saw that what he'd warned about had already occurred.

Ranko was already sitting in a pile of torn curtain, blinking at her reflection in a gigantic oval mirror, reaching twenty feet tall in a gilt and fancy frame hung prominently on the now uncovered wall of the two-story room.

Ukyo was blinking rapidly in shock, while Seijuro groaned and quietly facepalmed at the clumsy display. Now, it had often been remarked upon that Kenshin Himura, obviously one of the most skilled swordsmen of his era, could often perform near superhuman feats of dexterity and skill while in a battle, but when outside of those circumstances was vulnerable to occasional and inexplicable bouts of all-too-human failures of coordination.

Ranko too, for all of her training, wasn't any less vulnerable to the odd bout or two of astonishing clumsiness despite the surreal nature of her normal adroitness and agility. As the caretaker mentioned the odd and improbable series of events, the 14th Master's girl form fell prey to all of them, in order, as they were being mentioned.

Perhaps it was a curse on the house.

It was even more astonishing when her reflection stepped out, saying with a tear of joy, "Such a lovely girl... I am so fortunate!"

Yes, they were back in Nerima, where genuine magic artifacts seemed to be just as common as martial arts, and both occurred in the oddest varieties.

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In an upstairs bedroom of the Tendo domicile, Kasumi was tending to Akane's facial injuries, while downstairs it sounded like Nabiki and Ryoga were both playing with Happosai.

The eldest Tendo girl smiled, trying to encourage her sister. "Really Akane, is it so bad?"

"Bad? BAD?!' Akane yelled, then winced and began to cry again when the act of shouting opened up her wounds again. Kasumi handed her a cloth to sop up the salty tears before they could reach her wounds and aggravate them again. The last time that had happened the pain had caused her to cry more and that made things worse.

She wasn't about to get herself in a situation where they had to wash those cuts again. No, sir!

"Really, Akane. Those cuts are very precise and surgically neat. I'm sure they ought to heal up in a few days." Kasumi comforted.

"So says a girl who doesn't have 'Adulteress,' 'Oathbreaker' and 'Whore' carved into her face," the suffering girl named the three kanji that Ranko had sliced into her forehead and cheeks.

"Well, he did leave out violent maniac," Kasumi offered kindly, thinking there was still space open on her sister's chin, and how nice and restrained Ranma was not to fill it.

Akane scowled at her older sister, before holding her cheeks to stop the pain that making such a face had cost her.

"Really, Akane," Kasumi admonished. "I don't see how you can be so upset, since he didn't name you anything that wasn't true."

The youngest facefaulted in agony, then got to her feet and shouted, "How can you SAY something like that, Kasumi!?!" Before she clutched her face and doubled over in pain.

The kind girl continued in her typical honest but clueless manner, "But Akane, you did admit to taking a strange man to your bed, and I know I've seen you mash Ryoga's face into your breasts. That's not something you are supposed to do with your fiance's greatest rival, and especially not in front of him. It's the sort of behavior that qualifies as adultery, and very rude in not allowing him to ignore it going on. Then, you broke your promise made on our departed mother's name that very same day you made it. I gave up trying to get you to keep your word from that point on, as I don't know of any stronger oath. And then there is how you assist Nabiki in her business. I'm afraid there's no other way to describe a girl who sells sex, even if it's only sexy pictures, for money."

Soun's oldest daughter folded her hands nicely in her lap and gave her sibling a kind and brilliantly loving smile as she squirmed in pain. "So, you see, it really isn't bad at all that those wounds are going to scar and leave you marked that way for life! You don't have to worry a single moment about your reputation being ruined. No one will say a single lie behind your back because it's all true!"

Weeping tears, face blotted into a dry towel, and afraid to say anything or make an expression for fear of aggravated her wounds still further, Akane wished she could tell her dear older sister that her comfort wasn't helping.

"Oh, dear, they're getting red and inflamed once again," Kasumi observed the salty cuts as her sister lowered the towel for air. "But that's alright," she continued brightly. "We can just wash them again! It's really the only way to clean cuts and promote proper healing."

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As it so happened, certain people who were fixtures of Ranma's original life were absent as Furinkan High was taking its students on a field trip. So it was, that while kendo club members and some others were dodging pineapple bombs or exploding coconuts, some of the students (even some from Akane's class) were walking through an ancient castle, actually getting an education.

As it happened, it was a fully furnished castle, kept and maintained as part of a historical outreach program once it had no longer been possible for the original family who owned it to maintain as a working residence. The priceless furnishings and artwork survived the class trip only because Miss Hinako drained their principal before he could get inside to use any explosives.

So, aside from an event-filled morning trip on their way to the historical site, nothing unusual or untoward happened, which was a distinct change for the students from the regular drudgery of insane martial arts battles or abuse from their principal, who was currently acting as a beach blanket for overweight ugly people on the beach he'd blown to.

Most students were taking this opportunity to enjoy the field trip as a vacation, and those with the ability were wandering the halls enjoying the artwork, weapons, armor and furnishings preserved there.

Of course, what that class couldn't know was that castle was one of the many places that Ranko had been successfully kidnapped to, and, like many nobles who'd done so, the family had been fully aware of her reputation for not staying caught and had commissioned paintings of her, so if it turned they couldn't keep her despite their best efforts they'd at least have a picture of her. Paintings like this had been made all over the place - portraits which many historians argued couldn't be real, or not entirely real, insisting they were at the very least exaggerations - which didn't explain why all of those paintings were so close to the same, and agreed on virtually all important details, accurate for the period (aside from the hotly disputed subject matter) or were indisputably as old as they ought to have been.

Odd how so many historians spend their time arguing over how history never happened.

Still, among those who had better things to do than argue over why a red haired, blue eyed Japanese girl couldn't have existed in the Meiji, especially not one with such well developed curves, they could appreciate that legends are always about something rare and extraordinary that doesn't appear normally, and go on enjoying the reason why this castle was so popular a historical site.

It was one of those rare few where a full-detail painting of the semi-legendary "flame-haired Ranko" still existed on the walls, and was available for public display. The majority of those paintings to survive were in private collections and not shown to just anyone.

Yuka and Sayuri came to join the crowds around the legendary artwork, hemmed off by ropes and security measures as would suit the Mona Lisa in the Louvre, of which some thought the value was comparable, while native Japanese felt that this was higher.

Staring over the backs of the crowd, Yuka blinked at seeing the portrait of the kimono clad girl reclined, stunningly beautiful even in repose, and then whispered to Sayuri, "Hey, I'd never noticed before, but doesn't Ranma's girl side look alot like the legendary 'flame-haired Ranko' to you?"

"Yah, and it's kinda creepy our tomboy looks like a picture of the legendary beauty, except for the missing pigtail and the boyish way he acts, of course. That's probably why we never noticed a likeness before now." Sayuri agreed, looking over the portrait taken of the martial artist, unaware they were the same person as she contrasted the cursed guy she knew with the legends about Japan's most desired woman.

"What's even more creepy is that once or twice I've heard him use the same name - Ranko, when going disguised as a girl. It's just so odd that he'd try and disguise himself as the girl who almost single-handedly formed one of two competing symbols of Japanese girls' desirability over the last hundred and fifty years." Yuka puzzled, as two 'Red-Geisha', with red dyed hair and ample curves based on the maiden who'd become something of the castle's claim to fame, walked past the crowds.

The two girls sighed. "What would you give to be that desirable? To have plays written about you, and battles fought over you?"

"Yah," dreamy sigh. "Hey, didn't the Greeks have someone similar?"

Sayuri gladly enlightened her friend. "Yes, and they called her Helen of Troy, so beautiful that it was said her face launched a thousand ships when her husband went to war against her lover. If you ask me, those Greek stories were small pickings compared to the epic tales surrounding Ranko of the Fiery Hair."

Both girls once again sighed in well intended jealousy over the famous girl, thinking dreamy dreams over what it would be like to have been like flame-haired Ranko, famed for her sapphire eyes and stunning beauty, desired by nobles all over Japan.

Good looks like those would solve all of their boy problems, they were sure.

Of course, none of them were aware of certain photos which had begun to circulate, taken by shopkeepers of a traditionally dressed young flame-haired maiden who'd been shopping for a teakettle, or what excitement that would bring.

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As the person who had worse boy problems than either schoolgirl could imagine, Ranko currently sat beside an identical copy of herself, the two identical girls rested side by side on a big cushion in a circle with the rest of her chosen family before a fire which crackled and popped as the old caretaker explained their situation.

"The mirror was fashioned a century ago. It is said that it belonged to the young lady of the Monkey family. So beautiful was that maiden that she would gaze into the mirror day after day, seeing no one but herself. Then, after years of spending her days thus, she fell to a terrible illness and left this world tortured with regret over never having gotten a husband."

The old caretaker sighed, shifting his weary bones. "Perhaps her spirit possessed that mirror, for ever since anyone who is reflected in that surface will have her reflection step forth... and proceed to try to go out with anything that breathes."

"But that would mean..." the One True Ranko began ominously.

Her double had already changed into a sexy mini-dress complete with appropriate accessories for a night on the town, and was bounding toward the exit. "No man is safe! See you around!"

"So?" Ranko asked, having caught and now seated on her high-heeled double.

"Why didn't it copy me?" Ukyo asked, probing for details. "I was reflected in that mirror as well."

Leaning on his cane even as he sat, the wrinkled old caretaker replied, "It really should have. It's never fallen down on the job like this before." sigh. "And it will take at least another week to make a replacement sealing curtain, too."

"What does a sealing curtain do?" Seijuro asked, calmly sipping his tea.

"It's the only way to seal a reflection back into the mirror, once it's escaped," the old caretaker replied.

"And why would we want to do that?" Seijuro returned, calmly taking another sip from his tea.

Instantly, he had all eyes on him, particularly those of the double-Ranko, who was blinking up at him in hopeful surprise.

Ranko's father-in-law replaced his cup on the table before him before raising his eyes to those of the caretaker, commanding politely yet firmly, "Tell me all you know concerning these mirror doubles. Do they eat? Do they sleep? Are they mortal? Can they die? You say they seek romance, can they breed and bear children? How much of the original's knowledge and power do they possess? How long can they survive outside of the mirror? What weaknesses do they possess?"

"Oh, they can die alright," the old man reassured him, inwardly wondering at him being the first person to ever explore this rather than just try and be rid of the reflection. "My own reflection died in a car accident when I was twenty-six."

Had to be about a hundred years ago. His entire audience thought.

"What happened? Can you describe the aftereffects for us?" Seijuro prompted.

"Hm?" the old man was brought out of private reminiscing and sought to share. "Oh! Young folks nowadays have no interest in stories. You're an odd one. But I'll be glad to tell! Let's see, I can recall the incident now. I was just staying in this place overnight, like you are, but slipped on a banana peel and tore the curtain, then wham I had a double! It got away from us, naturally enough. Then later my reflection was in a car making out with the driver, touched something he shouldn't have and they sped out of control, smashed into a wall and that's it. Since that time I haven't cast another reflection is this mirror. Others still work for me just fine. But they made me caretaker of this place because I was the only one who could work around the doubling mirror safely."

"So, one reflection per person?" Seijuro probed, testing for limits. "Yours died and you could not cast another in it? What about reflections? Can those it created make copies of themselves in the mirror?"

With a surprising kick for such an old guy, the caretaker hit the cushion Ranko and her double were still seated on, sending it sliding out in front of the mirror again. "Nope! Looks like it doesn't! I didn't think so, what with the way things work when we put those copies back in. But you never know some things until you've tested them!"

The old guy began laughing.

Ranko looked at the mirror, then her double. "Strange. I've never looked in a glass before without seeing my reflection. But I guess you're out here now." She went from addressing her double to once again considering the old man. "You say that other mirrors work for you just fine?"

"That's true!" the old man confirmed. "It's only your reflection from this mirror that goes wandering about. Other ones, even other magic ones, work fine. I should know, we've got a few around here. This place has collected a couple, some I even use to control the runaway reflections from this one. But to go back to your earlier questions, the reflections are perfect copies of the original, except they don't copy other magic, that I'm aware of. Hehe, there was an incident there that makes a good story if you've got an evening. However, they eat, sleep, and do everything just like the original would, except of course they've got the sex drive of a truckload of bunny rabbits as far as finding a partner goes. No inhibitions at all! It is the one goal that they'll pursue."

Seijuro gave the caretaker a very considerate, although shallow, bow. "I thank you for the information. We would like to know all you do about this device, and your other objects, if that is agreeable."

"Now wait just a second, sonny," the old man crooked a bent finger warningly. "You can't know everything. I've gotta save that for the next caretaker! Ever since the family passed away, everything belongs to us now! Of course, what with all we've been doing to limit the number of reflections that escape, there haven't been any more of us for a while. In fact, I'm the last one. But for ninety years now I've stood watch and kept the cause, and I'll only pass down the secrets to another young kid like me, who loses his reflection!"

Without a word, Seijuro stood, nodded to the old man, ordered Ranko, "Daughter, bare your breasts, please." And, with his back turned to her, stepped before the mirror.

As expected, his double stepped out. When the reflection's eyes caught sight of Ranko's exposed bosom they caught his notice, and the real Seijuro beheaded the copy from behind during that moment of distraction.

Wiping off his sword, he sheathed it, watching the tiny glass particles and motes fall from where his reflection had powdered into dust.

The master had shown no emotion during that whole time. With a nod to Ranko, he instructed, "You may cover yourself now, please."

Double-Ranko had started crying by the time the foremost master had seated himself. Crying, she pled, "Are... are you going to kill me, too?"

"No," Seijuro finished for her. "There is no point to it. You are going to marry my son. He is already known to have a wife looking exactly like you, but she is a target for assassins so you will assist us in throwing those off. We will accept you as one of us if you will do this."

"Ooooh!" Double-Ranko squealed in excitement, throwing the original off her back as she sat up sparkling in glee. "When do I get to meet him?!? Is he handsome?"

"Countless maidens have thought so," the master answered, then directed a gaze to his original daughter-in-law. "Ranko, take your double up for a bath. Use hot water. Ukyo, go stand before the mirror. I must confirm something."

When the pretty chef had done as he asked, Seijuro took that as confirmation. "Very well, you do not cast a reflection in that mirror. Therefore, you did once and she used your stealth skills to escape from us. You and I must go out to search the town and recover her before she falls to harm. Once she has been rescued, we will return to this place where I will receive the instruction due me in their magical arts, and you will take care of your husband."

The ninja nodded fiercely, determination and gladness evident in her eyes at the kindness of her new father in law. She liked performing assignments she could believe in! But before she sprang off she returned to addressing the old man. "Hey, do our copies still have the same tastes as we do? I mean my reflection: will she desire men that suit my own fancy?"

"Yes, they share your exact likes and dislikes as far as partners go, only other magic could mess around with that." The caretaker blinked rheumy eyes at her from behind thick glasses.

Ukyo turned triumphantly to her new father in law. "Then could we ask Ranchan to wait on a full bath for a bit? Because the best way to find a ninja is to draw them in with bait, and there's no one I'm half as attracted to as Ranchan. If we get him out there, we won't have to penetrate her stealth techniques, she'll come to us."

In answer, Seijuro drilled Copy-Ranko with a steady gaze. "You will see your husband before we go. However, could you wait on consummating your marriage for a bit? Is your control of your desire strong enough to wait on that while we go to rescue your sister?"

"Yes! I can wait!" the lovely copy clasped her hands together girlishly. "Lucky me, everything is going so wonderfully!" She fixed the original with her gaze, to address her in thanks. "I get a husband right away, and you even look a bit like the 'flame-haired Ranko' of legends!"

"I AM Flame-Haired Ranko, you idiot! And I wish those stupid nobles would stop calling me that!!" The aforementioned redhead's temper flared up as the comment touched a sore spot.

The caretaker of the mansion's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he passed out, after clutching his chest with a strangled "GYAAA!!"

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Author's Notes:  
Generous thanks must go to Varth for the suggestion that the lust surrounding flame-haired Ranko led to legends transforming her into a Japanese symbol of beauty like Helen of Troy was for the Greeks, and that there should be humorous fallout from that fact.

A fallout that I am only now beginning to explore.

I'd like to thank everyone for their positive response. You really make this a labor of love, and thus both fun and easy to do.

Also, don't forget, for every question answered another must be posed. The story wouldn't be any fun otherwise. We'll get to things like resolving the mystery of Seijuro's reappearance in the story in it's proper time.


	4. Chapter 4

Ruroni Ranko  
Chapter Four

by Skysaber  
aka Jared Ornstead

During the mushroom incident events diverge from normal and enemies try to take advantage of our pigtailed hero. Unfortunately for them, attempts to get rid of him often go disastrously wrong.

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The private baths of the Mirror Mansion were rich and luxurious, and very, very big. Built for a prosperous trading family for their own use they were, like everything else in that manor, elegant to the point of extravagance. On that account, it was a great deal like the Chardin home, opulent and western on a huge scale.

Going up to the bathroom attached to the suite she'd been assigned for the night, Ranko led her mirror double into the lavishly decorated bath chamber, to the side with the rinsing area, toilets and sinks rather than the hot tub the size of a small pool (which they wouldn't have time to use, because of the rush to search for Ukyo's double). There she filled a bucket with hot water, and splashed both herself and her double.

Leaving one male Ranma and one girl copy in that room.

"She didn't turn back in hot water?" the original mused. "Of course, since I was female when that mirror caught me, and it doesn't copy other magic, this copy has no curse. So she will always be a girl! Still, it feels weird to be embarrassed by my own female body. But then, what isn't weird about this?"

"Oh, you nasty boy!" she poked him in joy. "Why didn't you just tell me you were a guy all along?" the copy gazed adoringly on him, eyes glinting and face alight with joy. "You are the son that my father-in-law offered to marry me to, am I right?"

"Uhm, yah."

"YAAAYY!!" the original was treated to an enthusiastic glomp by his double, when both paused, having heard splashes from the other half of the room, the bath area behind a rolling translucent screen.

Looking at each other, the copy-Ranko cuddled into the original's side as he slipped open the divider to see what made that noise. Peeking through, they saw a glorious wealth of brown hair spread out over a tub simply mountainous with white foam.

Mirror-Ukyo turned her head in the bath, smiling brilliantly for her Ranchan.

"Ranchan, where have you been? I've been... waiting for you, to come and take care of me... personally." she managed to give an ordinary-sounding sentence a sensual thrill as she lifted a long, bare leg out of the water, decorated with fluffy white bubbles from the soapy tub.

"..? ..b.. but you... aren't supposed to put soap in the furo..." the stunned brain of the poor martial artist grasped upon whatever thread it could of this situation that made any sort of sense.

"Silly." Ukyo's double rose her full length out of the tub, naked but for soap bubbles to her Ranchan's view. Her own gaze was particularly melting and intense as she hungrily devoured him with her eyes. "We were going to have to clean the furo anyway."

There came a sound of slithering silk and Ranma glanced behind to see that Copy-Ranko had discarded her own garments, a peculiar gleam to her eye.

He gulped and told himself not to panic.

Moments later, Ukyo and Seijuro, waiting for Ranma to rejoin them as a male, were treated to the sight of him standing on the balcony above the entranceway, suds decorating his clothes, as he attempted to speak in spite of a monstrous blush. "Um, I kinda found copy-Ukyo. She's in my room."

Some twittering laughter came from the open door behind the boy, the one leading to his suite of rooms, and he blushed harder. Swallowing with difficulty, he fought to stay calm, as he said, "Anyway, could you send the real Ukyo up? I figured since she is my second wife, she ought to go first, if I'm going to be taking them in any kind of order."

In an instant, his blushing ninja bride was up the steps, placing a dainty kiss on the side of his face. "You're so sweet, Ranchan."

Seijuro permitted himself to smile on this scene. Turning away to go back into the mansion, sword slung casually over his shoulder, no longer ready for immediate use, he spoke as he departed to find the room where they'd laid the ailing old man, "Since those two young ladies are going to be with us for quite some time I have decided to name them. They shall be Miranko - short for "Mirror-Ranko", and Miukyo - short for "Mirror-Ukyo". Do be good and tell them their new names before you take them as new brides, and that I grant them my approval to marry you, effective at once."

"Yah, um... about that," the iron nerves of the younger samurai faltered in the face of this totally unfamiliar situation.

But his master had already disappeared into the darkness at the heart of the unlit mansion. Giggling, Ukyo tugged on his arm, drawing him back into his room. There, Miranko was dancing about, twirling in joy and wearing nothing but a filmy nightgown and modest but flattering underwear that could be seen plainly through that billowy outer material, her flowing red hair and sapphire eyes alight with glamour-sparkles as the two originals entered.

Hearing the ninja currently hanging onto his arm chortle, Ranma gazed down on his oldest, best friend in curiosity, to see she was looking at Miranko.

Thankfully, Ukyo explained, "Sorry Ranchan, just thinking about 'flame-haired Ranko'. It is just so funny that Ranma, man amongst men, has become the peak of sensuality and role model for desirability among woman in Japan."

"Actually," Miukyo joined them, walking with a sensual roll of her hips that had her soon to be lover blushing furiously. This was not helped by the fact that her frilly outfit was hardly there, a very brief set of shorts and top that managed to draw attention to what little they did conceal. "I think of Ranma-honey as the world's handsomest guy."

"Me too! Me too!" Miranko grabbed his other side, positively radiating joy, her face alight with love. "I only wish I could go first!"

The amount of love in that request would have melted a lesser man.

Instead, Ranma sweatdropped. "True, you're attractive. But no matter how cute and sexy with perfect proportions, I can't treat any of you unfairly or we'll all be unhappy. And so..."

He stared at the two Ukyos, standing there desperate for a matching compliment. Everyone sweatdropped as he waited increasingly long seconds.

Finally, he broke out into a wide grin, taking all three of those girls into his arms. "Here I am, surrounded by the three most beautiful woman in Japan! I can't believe they each want me! My cute fiancee has now become my cute wife! And her mirror-double as well! It's like this is too good to actually be happening!"

Everyone sweatdropped at that comment, imagining themselves waking up in bed, alone, to discover this had all been just a dream.

Ukyo broke the tension with a giggle. "Still, good ol' clumsy Ranchan." She raised her head to kiss him, then began drawing that group toward the large, plush bed. "C'mon, Ranchan. You'll learn how to use the right words in time. For now, just kiss us."

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A night passed, and dawn's rosy light was just gracing the horizon as the 13th master of Hiten Mitsurugi was just having his morning tea. On his table was a book, detailing some of the many secrets of the Mirror Mansion, out of a library of similar tomes that the old caretaker had shown him. He had been reading it long into the evening.

"Secret reports are unnecessary," Seijuro calmly told the shadow crouched in the entrance to the chamber he was in. "I trust my son and do not need to spy on him."

Ukyo stood and emerged from the shadows. "I know. It's just this is about Ranchan and I think he'd find it embarrassing if we were to discuss it in front of him."

Seijuro nodded. This was not a spy report, it was a father-daughter talk. "Speak, then. How did your wedding night go?"

The chef made a slight shrug, coupled with a nervous smile. "Snuggles and making out were as far as we got. I don't believe Ranchan actually knows what to do with a bride."

"I trust you three will teach him appropriately."

"I believe it may go deeper than that," Ukyo warned, informing him. "We girls tried, but there's something off with his chi flows. There was enough forbidden flesh on display there, and enough touching and feeling going on, that if he were capable of a natural reaction it would have happened, and we girls would have gone from there."

The pretty ninja sighed. "I don't know what happened in Ranchan's past. He's never spoken of it much. But I suspect his good-for-nothing teacher Genma did something to him to keep him focused on martial arts, possibly permanently blocking off his physical desires. For all the time I've known Ranchan he's displayed all of the sex drive of a wet dishrag, so this is not something new, just more obvious and evident. It's as though he has no ability to feel sexual desires or pleasures at all, and is just being nice to us doing kissing. Actually, since Miranko doesn't share his disinterest or inability, there's probably some magic involved in making Ranchan the way he is."

Seijuro stood in one smooth but menacing motion, for even those that didn't know him there was no mistaking that a predator, a killer, was now on the prowl. "You did well to bring this to me. I shall go discuss this with that Genma person. You may come along if you wish."

Ukyo nodded. "I will."

"How are the others doing?" the master asked as they walked together out of the mansion.

"They're totally devoted to Ranchan. It's sweet. Even I don't dote on him that much. I don't know if Shampoo does, but she would certainly try. Whatever this 'love starved copy' thing is with the mirror clones, they're certainly willing to be loyal once accepted."

"That is good to hear," the father-in-law gave his daughter an affectionate pat on the back, before they wordlessly started out for the Tendo dojo.

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From where he had been removed to, after his accident at the Tendo dojo, Tatewaki Kuno sat upon a stool in the yard of his family's grand and noble estate, gazing out upon the cherry blossoms, specifically imported and glued to every tree (even the evergreens) for this moment of poignant agony.

Yes, he had just chosen to read his worn, dog-eared copy of 'Ranko and Hideki, a romantic tragedy' once again.

Crying tears of manly suffering for his fellow samurai, who was so cruelly denied the warmth of affection so obviously offered him by the legendary flame-haired Ranko, Kuno clenched a fist yet raised a stoic face to the unencumbered heavens above him, unmindful of the rivers of tears flowing down each cheek as he felt for his ancient brother. The grass beneath his chair was watered by the rain of his tears as once again he came to that most bitter of ends, where the maiden, after escaping those twin demons who held her bound and tenderly confessing her love to the young samurai, was once again hauled off by the returning foes from hell, who breached the castle, breathing clouds of noxious poison from their nostrils to incapacitate the guards and consuming those who dared to resist them with fire balls from their eyes.

No, not even the manly resistance of the stoic samurai Hideki, who faced them with bravery Tatewaki could only hope to emulate, could pause the advance of those two fiends from the darkest hell.

Once more, sniffling and lips trembling in shared agony with his ancient brother, Kuno read that last, tender scene, where the flame haired maiden gave one, last, loving caress of Hideki's brow before those demons effortlessly hauled her away, their demented ravings not enough to silence that final, poetic call from her perfect lips, before Ranko disappeared to return to ignoble service in that hell where they kept her bound.

Tatewaki, upon reaching that tragic end, once again burst out into loud wails and sobs, thinking nothing less of himself for so doing, for so had Hideki before him.

From her balcony, Kodachi watched this pathetic sight and once again felt the bitter surge of jealousy, that all men, even her own brother, should be so moved by a vision of female loveliness - a vision that she herself could not hope to equal.

For she, like virtually all Japanese women, were cursed with the dark hair and slender bodies of their race, not the voluptuous curves and fiery mane that enticed the spirits of their men so. It was the curse of samurai houses since the Meiji that their women despaired of their breeding denying them the very features that their men looked for and craved.

Kodachi had no desires on her brother. He was nothing more than an example of the power of those, like the pigtailed girl, who were blessed with those rarest of features. Her lips squirmed into a frown of jealousy over that power, and her own helplessness to acquire it over a simple act of genetics.

How could she not hate Ranko for being perfect? Especially when she, herself, could not be?

She was about to step away from the balcony when Sasuke, their ninja manservant, appeared to interrupt Tatewaki's wailing over misery shared with his ancient samurai brother at the end of his reading - against strict orders. Curiosity kept her nearby, as the little retainer dared much in imposing himself whilst her brother was thus drunken with sorrows. Perhaps not quite so great as his punishments would be if he'd interrupted a session of 'Kyubi and Ranko' or, that ever entrancing classic, 'Rumitsu's Journey' wherein the hero travels across the country, joining in epic battles one after another, fighting demons and oni for glimpses of the flame-haired maiden, but worse than if he'd dared interrupting during any of the fifty or so lesser works her brother was known to read.

Personally, she far preferred the 'Tales of Hiko' which were about a wandering family of samurai, going about doing good and fighting the supernatural. For, while they had a red haired wench in it, she didn't go about seducing every noble in the vicinity as they traveled.

Hmm, that reminded her, a televised serial version of 'The Demon's Captive', which was actually better than the books, was due to be rebroadcast again next week, and while a flame-haired Ranko tale, the son of the elder demon who held the fiery tressed Ranko captive actually bore quite a resemblance to her Ranma-sama. Not as good, of course, but she'd have to recall to tell Sasuke to record that marathon all the same.

Kodachi's lips drew together as she saw her suspicions confirmed. Tatewaki did not punish the lowly ninja who'd imposed upon his grief-filled solitude. She leap off her balcony to discover what this news was.

Hmm, it involved pictures. Approaching swiftly, she seized one with her ribbon, and fell to her knees with horror at beholding the central figure of the simple shopping scene displayed there. Her! Her! Her rival for Ranma-sama's affections... had... had!

"How DARE she look that good in a kimono!!!" Kodachi raised to her feet and cried.

With a peaceful face, Tatewaki Kuno gazed soulfully and poetically up to the sky. "Verily, like a butterfly emerging glorious and beautiful from her cocoon, has my tree-borne kettle girl of the scarlet pigtail become like unto a Flame Haired Ranko, in truth."

Swooning dramatically to one side, Kodachi sobbed, thumping the ground feebly with her fist, "Now she looks identical to the legendary flame haired maid." Sobbing up to the heavens, she cried, "How is a simple girl of ordinary colors and proportions to compete with that?!?!"

Rising over his sister, who was now lying prostrate in misery, her sobs filling the air that had once echoed to his, Tatewaki stood in calm and collected majesty. "Come Sasuke, we must prepare a celebration for this day, an event unseen since the Meiji, since the steps of a flame-haired beauty once again cause the very earth to sing out joy and praises to her illustrious name! A time for great deeds and greater romance lies upon us, and we must be prepared to alert every man on earth to the glory of her presence!!"

He lowered his bokken from 'declaration pose', and spoke more softly, but intensely to his sword, "Then, will all men speak in joy and rapture of the glory of the great Tatewaki Kuno, and the prize that I have won!"

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"So, you are flame-haired Ranko?" her own mirror double approached her, glittering. "So that would mean that was our face on this book?"

Miranko held out a copy of 'Ranko and Hideki, a romantic tragedy' she'd taken off the shelves of the mansion's library.

"Hideki?" Ranko stared at the woodcut, at the two figures on it, before tossing the book away. "I remember that guy. He was a whiny little brat who had too much privilege and attention and too little responsibility. He couldn't have been more than fourteen when his retainers kidnapped me for him. So I told him how much I hated him and smacked him a good blow to the head before I escaped. He bawled like a baby and made me think even less of him over throwing a tantrum like that. That was one of those times that my father was coming in the front door as Ranma fought his way out."

Yes, even speaking of herself, in private, to those closest to her, Ranko had been conditioned by avoiding the seemingly omnipresent ears of ninja to refer to acts done by her male side as though done by another person.

It was just safer that way.

Miranko's face screwed up prettily in thought. "Hm. He must have written down a different version," she said, as she replaced the book on a shelf.

"If you find any references to demons, ignore those. Just like Kuno nowadays calls Ranma a 'foul sorcerer', all kinds of screwballs back then called him and my father demons when they broke in to rescue me. Also, any romantic garbage is pure trash. Just about every freak back then imagined he was in love with me, and that I returned those affections. What's worse, they dictated chronicles, and commissioned plays, paintings, the whole nine-yards, all showing their point of view. You can't imagine how embarrassing that was."

The two mirror-duplicates blinked in wordless surprise.

"So," Ranko sat pertly down, facing the two mirror clones, herself and Ukyo's. "Let's do a bit of girl-talk. Ranma has to date some people today. What are the kinds of things he ought to do?"

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Soun was just brushing his teeth, gazing out over his yard, when a touch of motion flashed by. Mistaking it for the motion created by the morning light casting and recasting shadows, the father of three thought nothing of it, and went to rinse out his mouth.

When he returned he seated himself at the head of his table, back to the greenery of his back yard. However, as he was reaching for the paper, something flew by and struck him on the back of the head, knocking him out and prone.

In an instant, wires flashed out from around corners and attached themselves to his wrists and ankles, body, head and other areas. Somewhat jerkily those first few moments, the unconscious man sat up and claimed his paper, now a marionette under control of the person behind those near-invisible strings.

Moments later the family came down: Nabiki still sleepy and in her pajamas, Akane in her school uniform but with bandages covering her face, and Soun's old best friend, Genma. The group waited in something approaching silence those seconds until Kasumi announced that breakfast was ready by bringing out the dishes.

Putting down his paper, the Soun-puppet turned to his friend while his eldest was serving the rice and asked, "Saotome, I've been thinking. What we need to recapture your son is a trap."

"Excellent idea, Tendo!" Genma shouted boisterously, unaware that his friend's voice had been mimicked and was coming from around the eaves instead of his buddy, who sat there beside him. "We're lure him in and take away that sword, then we'll call in a priest and our legacy will be secure!"

Soun nodded, the motion just a touch unnatural as the wires stretched and tightened, permitting the head to bob up and down. "Precisely. However, what concerns me is the bait, and I was thinking of using one of my daughters in the same sort of trap we might use to catch the Master. What do you think?"

Genma scowled, rubbing his chin, as Akane steamed beside them. "Wouldn't work, Tendo. As good an idea as that is, there's no way that Ranma would fall for it. Back when he was ten years old I took him high up into the mountains to a Buddhist monastery. Their martial arts were nothing significant. However, by pretending to enroll my son as a monk, I was able to ensure that they used their secret celibacy rituals to ensure that he'd never be another man like our Master. From that day he's never had the slightest curiosity about sex." He slammed a fist into his palm in recognition, an idiotic grin upon his face. "I'd forgotten all about that until now."

As the daughters looked on in various degrees of horror, Soun's head once again bobbed in a slightly awkward nod, and a voice like his asked, "But my friend, if that's the case how is he going to marry one of my girls to carry on the school? And your wife? How is he going to give her grandchildren?"

Genma froze in a ritual pose of Idiocy Revealed. After a heartbeat, he shook himself out of it and laughed, rubbing the back of his head in shame with one hand while the other stole rice from Soun. "You know, Tendo? I never thought of that!"

Mass facefault of everyone but the wire-controlled puppet. Even the wires went slack for a moment as the ninja controlling them smacked hard against the roof tiles. But the unconscious father of three didn't sag much before control got reestablished.

"You mean, all this time Akane's been treating Ranma like a hormone-driven pervert and he has NO SEX DRIVE AT ALL?!?!" Nabiki shouted, shock bringing her fully awake.

"None!" Genma agreed, still rubbing his bald head and grinning like the idiot he was. "From what the monks said, he's not even capable of forming a sexual thought! I even got out of informing him of the Birds and the Bees, as he's unable to discern any difference between boys and girls! Gender is completely below notice to him! He doesn't care at all!"

The imbecile laughed loudly after bragging about that last part, his left hand continuing to steal rice from Soun's bowl, sneaking it into his mouth between gales of laughter.

"Oh my, so not only was Akane performing adultery, but she was accusing Ranma of being a pervert when that's not possible. She was punishing him for crimes he couldn't possibly have committed, as he is a complete innocent." The eldest stopped serving rice to blink several times in shock. After blinking, she declared, "And her attempt to get Ranma jealous by sleeping with his rival was doomed to failure from the start, as he simply couldn't get those kind of reactions, because he had no desire for anyone in the first place."

Genma got flattened by a table, his chopsticks breaking, and Akane went to stomp back up to her room, fists clenched by her sides. Then, as tears began to flow, she broke and ran, hoping to get to a cloth before they got under her bandages again.

"Saotome," Soun's voice growled in anger, although his face was strangely slack. "I think you've overlooked something. How is your son going to marry my daughter and carry on the dojo if he has no desire to get married in the first place!?!"

The oddly mimicked rictus of anger on his friend's face didn't scare him any less for the fact that it was a poor copy. Genma cowered behind his arms, cringing, "But Tendo! If I recall right, there was a big brothel in the village outside that monastery! They had monks visit there! So there must be a counter for the technique!"

The expression of fearsome stoicism was much better copied, as puppet-Soun faced his oldest friend, and in a firm, clear voice of barely controlled anger declared, "Then until you return here with it, you are no longer welcome in this house."

Genma stared, flabbergasted, at Soun, before bowing his head, and in a tone of defeat, accepting, "Very well, old friend. I understand." Then he went upstairs, got his pack, and left out the front door without speaking or looking at anyone, a rare expression of firm determination on his face.

Soun twitched, and the wires withdrew in a snap, leaving the mustached man there blinking around, then looking down at his empty breakfast dish and the two other vacated places. Turning to his remaining two daughters in confusion, he asked, "Where is Akane? And Saotome? And what happened to my rice?"

Both girls facefaulted.

Their father rubbed his chin, then wondered why his face was sore.

Outside, Genma Saotome shouldered his heavy pack and began his weary march, leaping from housetop to housetop toward the mountains he remembered, unaware that he was followed by two figures, both careful to keep themselves concealed from him.

Behind him, at what they felt was a safe distance, Seijuro and Ukyo followed.

"I am pleased, although your scowl was unconvincing." Seijuro commented as they went, always careful to keep the fat fool in front of them in sight.

"You have any idea how hard a scowl is to do? To get any control of expressions at all you've first got to work some wires into the sides of the face, then hook them on muscles inside. That takes some careful doing. Then, smiles are easy, you don't have to twitch much to get a grinning loon. Demented, deranged or crazy are all easy. But a truly realistic scowl is among the hardest of faces to do like that. My teacher said that's probably one reason why samurai back then frown so much. So their friends will know if they're looking at someone under a puppet technique."

"Often, daughter, the hard things are those most worth doing well."

"Ok," sigh. "They told me there was a trick to it, but that was one of those things they never got around to showing me."

"Then, daughter, you must discover it yourself."

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Meanwhile, in another part of Tokyo, a different breakfast was happening. A cry of distress was heard from a certain maiden who loved her sleep.

"Ahh! I'm late!"

Stomp, stomp, stomp, he feet came down the stairs, after having dressed in a rush. "Mom! Why didn't you wake me up in time for the first bell?"

The kind hearted mother in the kitchen replied, "I did Serena, three times, and each time you told me you were getting up 'right away'."

"And you believed me?" the girl asked in a perplexed tone.

"Serena, aren't you forgetting something?" Her mother held up a wrapped lunch.

"Oh, yah. Thanks mom!" Scarfing a few pieces of toast down in a rush, and taking two more to eat on the way, Serena grabbed her lunch and bag and bowed quickly to her mother before rocketing off down the street, leaving a cloud of brown dust behind.

"Hello Serena," Amy met her inside of the school gate, where the twin-ponytailed blonde collapsed and started to breathe after her very long run. Her genius friend went on, sprouting a big smile. "I'm so excited! I've never been on a date before. I find I am quite looking forward to it. I even brought a change of clothes, so I can change after school. How about you?"

"A DATE!?" Serena shrieked out at the top of her lungs, inadvertently drawing the attention of the entire school. "OMIGAWD! I FORGOT!"

"Serena!" Molly appeared by her side, hands clasped before her in girlish joy. "What's this I hear about a date? Did you find some guy you like?"

"Yah!" Melvin, the school nerd, appeared beside them. "How is it that you found a date when I still can't get one? I know you're beautiful, but you have low grades, and you're a shop-aholic!"

"Uh.." Serena desperately sweatdropped, before her finger lashed out almost of its own volition to jab a point at Amy. "It's not me. AMY! She's the one that has a date. Hehe."

"Yes, that's true. I do have a date scheduled for later today. Now, if you'll excuse me, we should all be moving on to class right about now." The blue haired genius bowed and excused herself to go walk toward the classroom.

"Wait up! I'll go with you!" Serena dashed off.

Meanwhile, behind them, the school gossip mill began to run.

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Three girls and one ancient caretaker were all sitting down to a big breakfast those same ladies had just prepared when Ranko got a stitch of curiosity.

"Hey, old man. You said that mirror creates a perfect copy, right? Then how is it that Miukyo-chan here is so like Ucchan that I can't tell them apart, but my clone is like a different person?"

The old caretaker stared with rheumy eyes out at the pair of personified images of the girl he'd fantasized about when he was a youth. Guilt made him blurt out information, as he was desperate to change the subject, "Oh? Well, let's see. Oh! That's right, you're father told me when we were discussing the mirror last night that you've got a curse that turns you into a boy? Well, that's magic right there! Our mirror can't copy that, but it always tries to make a perfect reflection. So the copy sitting next to you is more the 'outward you', what you might have been like if you'd truly been born a girl. As such, you're just a bit strangers to each other. Call yourselves kissing cousins!"

The old man laughed at his feeble joke.

"So, because he's got a Jusenkyo curse, anything unique to Ranchan's boy side didn't get copied? That makes sense, I guess." Miukyo sat down to a fresh plate of breakfast okanomiyaki. "And, if you eliminate the masculine perspective, most of what makes him up wouldn't copy. So the personalities and memories are different. I get it."

Ranma started nodding, caring nothing for the pot of hot water that Miranko poured over his head, before she started snuggling onto his side. "So I get that. My next problem is, how am I going to take at least three, possibly six, girls on dates today?"

The old caretaker, whose glasses had fogged, stared blindly around the table. "Well, with your father being the new Caretaker and all, I suppose that I could offer you a bit of help there. We've got a few special artifacts in the basement. One of those is a mirror of dreams. Once you look in its surface, it draws you in and spits out eight nearly identical copies. While an original sleeps inside of that mirror, he can control and sense his copies. See?"

Looking up, shocked, at the eight-sided mirror than the old guy pulled out of his robes, Ranma was suddenly drawn in, and his sleeping image appeared on the face, while the breakfast nook was suddenly crowded with eight more of him.

"But it's got several problems," the old man shook his head sadly, as if his warnings had once more been disobeyed rather than him getting his kicks out of using mirrors on people. "For one, because you're dreaming you aren't exactly on your best behavior. It isn't your conscious mind doing the thinking, only your impulses, as your mind thinks it's just a dream. Second, the copies are pretty fragile." The old man flicked a chopstick at one and it vanished, disappearing in a flash of refractive glare and leaving them with seven. "So they can't fight worth a darn, and don't do heavy lifting very well."

"Last," the old man chuckled. "They feel real enough to others, but nothing they do is really going to affect the one doing it. So, even if they eat a mountain of food, you could still starve to death inside the mirror."

"You jackass!" Miukyo came up, grabbing ahold of the caretaker's shirt front to haul him to his feet. "Why did you do that? How do we get Ranchan out of there?"

"Relax, he'll reappear around sundown. It's just not an object you want to use too much," the old man soothed the irate chef. "One of our caretakers used this to hold down seven night jobs and go out on the town carousing each evening on the money he made. But that sort of abuse is irresponsible at best."

"Which caretaker was it?" One of the Ranma doubles asked, not one of those currently snuggling with Miranko or calming down Miukyo.

"Hehehe," the old man laughed nervously. "Well, it was me, to be honest. But I just don't like to admit that. It gives a bad impression to our guests." He cackled, then snorted. "The worst part about using this thing is the eating and drinking part. You can't get drunk in a dream body, and don't think I haven't tried! Silly little flimsy things just evaporate into glare if you take even a sip. No constitution at all!"

His audience sweatdropped as he continued to cackle loudly and proudly.

"So Ranchan," Miukyo addressed one of the two Ranmas now holding her. "He does bring up an important point. Money. How are you going to pay for all the things you plan to do with us girls on our dates?"

At that moment, a tiny handkerchief floated over to them on a breeze, blown in through an open window. On it was a print of a topless Ranko unaware of the camera and wearing nothing but boxer shorts. A memento of her Tendo dojo days.

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Author's Notes:  
Foreshadowing? Me? Nah! Who are you thinking of?

You realize that it's taking me far longer than I'd suspected to go back in time and do stuff during the Meiji. But oh well. I hope you are all enjoying the ride.

I'd almost gone ahead and introduced how Seijuro had traveled through time, but that got shoved ahead to a future chapter, I guess. I'd say it's the next one, but that's what I'd thought about this one. So who knows?


	5. Chapter 5

Ruroni Ranko  
Chapter Five

by Skysaber  
aka Jared Ornstead

During the mushroom incident events diverge from normal and enemies try to take advantage of our pigtailed hero. Unfortunately for them, attempts to get rid of him often go disastrously wrong.

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A gust of wind blew in Nabiki's window as she was changing into her school uniform for the day. Looking at it, she wondered, "That's odd. I didn't think I'd left that open."

That's when she was permitted to sense the person standing beside her.

"Hello, Nabiki." Ranma said. "You know, it stuck me, as I was wondering what my family and I would do for money, that I'd been earning a great deal already at a job I'd never wanted or asked for. And that I'd never been paid for my work. So I thought I'd just come here to collect my paycheck."

The middle Tendo was struck with cold and steely eyes. "Now you will give me ALL of the money you ever made off of me."

"Laugh it up, Saotome. That was a good joke," Nabiki chuckled humorlessly, not seriously thinking he was any more serious than usual as she ignored him and went about zipping on her skirt. She then fluttered a hand dismissively in his direction, deciding not to tell him about the sex drive thing for now. Not when he was acting uppity. She'd punish him in part by letting him languish in ignorance for now. "Now get going. I'll just add the price of this threat to your tab."

"No, Nabiki. You will pay me, or else."

The confident mercenary spun around, disdain and effrontery written on her features. "Or else what, Ranma? You were never able to do anything to me before, and that hasn't changed now that you've learned some new techniques. I can control you at my whim, and for daring to think otherwise I think I've got a few appointments for you to fill! Let's see what the rest of the fiancee brigade..."

The middle Tendo stuttered to a stop as she felt a sword enter smoothly into her abdomen, pinning her to the back of the chair she was sitting on to pull up her socks.

She finally realized that this wasn't the Saotome she was used to manipulating as she raised her eyes to meet the cold, hard gaze of the killer whose face she'd been ignoring until now.

The easily dominated person she was so used to taking for granted, shamelessly taking advantage of and utterly dismissing as any kind of threat wasn't there anymore. She was so used to these momentary crises passing quickly that she'd automatically failed to account for that. After all, if she'd spent her time accounting for each personality shift of her prey she'd never get any work done.

But she'd forgotten about the cursed sword, or whatever was possessing him. The limits still applied to Ranma, almost certainly, but the way she thought she understood what was happening, she suspected it wasn't Ranma in control right now.

Silently, she amended that priority as she struggled not to move, lest she make the stab worse by cutting herself up further on the still implanted blade.

"No, Nabiki," Ranma spoke softly. "You have no power over me. Why? Because I give you none, and you don't have the strength to take it. Now your life is forfeit unless you come up with ALL of the cash to cover ALL of the money you've ever made off of me. Is that clear? But first, let's have a look at your account books, Nabiki. Where are they?"

The skewered woman paused, frantically searching for an excuse, any excuse at all, to get out of this situation. Unluckily for her, her captor had been expecting such a reaction, and correctly interpreted the Ice Queen's expression as she sought for a delay.

A slight twitch on the handle and suddenly Nabiki's body registered the pain of the cut it had been happily interpreting as a strange pressure until that slight movement made it aware of the nature of her injury.

"You'll never get away with this," the mercenary gasped, trying to restrict herself to short breaths as her agony knotted muscles fought to force her to curl up in a ball - an unfortunate reaction that would slice her belly to ribbons on the sword still stuck through her.

There was no compassion or humor at all in her reply. "I can cut you in half with a flick of my wrist, and you'd bleed to death before you could crawl, pulling your legless torso across the floor, to a phone to beg for help. What I can or cannot get away with is no concern of yours. Now, where are the ledgers?"

Raising a trembling arm, Nabiki indicated a shelf.

Dutifully giving her the benefit of the doubt, Ranma stepped over to the shelf to leaf very quickly through the books. Dropping them carelessly on the bed, he returned to take the hilt of the sword he'd left sticking partway through the girl once again in his hands. "Very funny. I'm sure whoever you prepared those to fool would be very amused. Now, the real ledgers, if you please."

He twitched the sword just fractionally, and a wave of agony swept over the Ice Queen of Furinkan High through the two feet of sharp edged steel embedded in her guts.

"THOSE ARE THE REAL ONES!" Nabiki tried to shout without drawing any breath. "NOOOO!!" she sweated in terror as she saw the frown of disapproval appear on the face of her tormentor. "I'D JUST RENAMED EVERYTHING, I SWEAR I'M BEING HONEST! THE FLOWER SHOP ENTRIES ARE WHAT I'D BEEN MAKING OFF YOU!!"

Ranma was slowly shaking his head, hands still on the handle of his blade. "I'm sorry, Nabiki. I just wish I could believe you. But I did ask the gentleman who'd purchased the indecent print of Ranko I found, and the price he paid was nowhere in those books, as any entry. Now I can't bring myself to believe you'd let someone else whore her out like that, as they'd cut into your market. So I'm afraid I'm going to have to accept that you are lying."

"It's encoded. I dropped a decimal. The real prices are ten times what are listed in those books." The middle Tendo's face went pale as death and she sweated profusely as she saw the expression of disbelief cross her captor's features. "I SWEAR I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP! I USE THOSE BOOKS TO PAY OFF MY FACTORS! THERE IS A DIFFERENT ONE FOR EACH BUSINESS!"

"And what about the entries you do not want to pay a dividend to your people on?" The samurai asked calmly. " No, Nabiki, you're too good at lying for me to believe so obvious a trap. I am sure claiming to have encoded those books, allows you to convince your fellow yakuza that you're making whatever you want them to believe, and pocket their share of whatever you aren't paying them."

How did he know? she wondered about his accurate guess as to how she ran her business, specifically as to how she'd been cheating those who worked for her, even as she resented him for calling her a yakuza.

Nabiki at last realized that her life was worth more to her than a couple of yen. Head bowed, tears mingled with sweat, she admitted in a defeated whisper, "My real account book is under the desk, in a safe built into the floor. The false floorboard to reach it is under the stack of dirty magazines. The combination is Akane's three sizes, as she was my first real money maker. But there's also a key. You'll find it tucked inside of my shorts, taped in between my panties and my maxi-pad."

To her unending surprise, there was no pause as Ranma thrust a hand in to grab her key, though a slight corner of her mind was endlessly grateful that he'd done so without disturbing her wound or the jiggling the sword any more. Then her safe got opened.

"My, Nabiki, who would have dreamed you were such a naughty girl?" Ranma put the magazines aside, only having glanced at the titles. "And these," he'd removed the floor board and pulled out a set of male boxers underneath. "Happosai repellent, obviously. But this pair is mine? Interesting. Were these for your own enjoyment or to sell later?" the swordsman asked.

Nabiki didn't dare not answer him. "Mine." But she also didn't care to elaborate.

"Hmm, you've cemented this safe into the floor. Probably a wise idea. Now, you are aware if there are any traps, say a knockout powder bomb, that you'll be pinned to that chair perhaps for a very long time? That is, if you don't have so large a cloud that it knocks you out, too. That would be ugly, don't you think? Falling unconscious and slumping out of that chair? Just think what damage you'd do to yourself on your way down."

"There is powder. I got it from Kodachi. You disarm it by pulling on the combination dial after you've opened the lock but before you open the door." Nabiki pushed the rather disturbing image suggested out of her mind, even while marveling at the amount of cheer in Ranma's voice. It was as if he was playing a game!

"Good, you're learning. Now, what are Akane's three sizes? I've forgotten."

Nabiki told him.

Ranma took out the only book therein and began reading, flipping pages quickly. "Well, you are very greedy. Fortunately for you, you are also a miserly skinflint who rarely spends any of her ill-gotten gains, so you have more than enough money to return, with interest, all of what you'd made off of me. How very lucky for you. And a surprising fortune for me. It looks like I don't have to cut you in half after all."

Counting a large stack of money in one hand, the martial artist came around and smoothly removed the sword from Nabiki's belly with one motion of the other. "Since you've been a good girl you get to go without having this in your middle for now. Tell me, why store all of this money here? I should have thought you couldn't resist earning interest in a bank account."

Sick with fear over worries about herself, but otherwise feeling better, Nabiki gave him an honest answer right away, fearing what hesitation or fabrication would bring her. "I do have a bank account, but there's next to nothing in it. Since I am still a minor daddy can make withdrawals from any account I have, without even my permission. I only made that mistake once, but we almost had to hospitalize him after the week long drinking binge he went on using money he'd taken from me. I'd already tried to hide it, but he'd somehow found out about the account anyway. I've never kept money in there since."

Ranma calmly continued counting bills.

"Can't we do something about my bleeding?" Nabiki was getting desperate.

"What bleeding, Nabiki?" the samurai looked up at her, blinked, then down again and resumed counting. "Oh, I forgot. you're wearing a pad. Well, if you have to change it, go ahead."

"I was talking," the brunette hissed, trying not to sound too panicky or too angry as she labored to keep the lid on her fear, "about the wound you made in my stomach."

"What wound? There is no wound, Nabiki."

Startled, it was a fraction of a second before the middle Tendo first checked with her eyes, then started to inspect with her fingers. There was indeed a small hole in her shirt that matched up front and back. There was also one in the seat back behind her. Unable to quite believe her senses, she began poking and prodding to confirm the cut's absence.

"Don't go pushing too hard," Ranma interrupted her probing with a caution, even as he still counted bills. "You know that trick where the best of swordsmen with the best of blades can cut a radish in half, and those halves can be rejoined so completely that the cut seals and you'd never be able to tell it was damaged? That's what's at work here, only flesh is a bit more springy than radishes are, so you could reopen it if you go pushing too hard. It should be completely sealed over inside of a day. Then you'll never know it happened."

I'll never forget! Nabiki's fear reasserted itself, but she had to admit that even her body was readjusting just as fast as if the stab had been a figment of her imagination.

Then she caught sight of her open safe, and all of those photos of Ranma-chan and Ranma that she'd enjoyed so profitable a business on had been destroyed. Even her negatives were gone.

Ranma noticed her noticing. "Oh, you won't be allowed to continue using my image without my permission. As I don't choose to give that permission, you'll stop. The same goes for Ranko, of course." He finished counting out the money owed him, after paying himself the same ruinous interest rates that Nabiki charged everyone else, and stuck several fat stacks of cash inside of his robe. The much more pitiful remainder got dropped back into the hidden safe.

Just as Nabiki would have done had their roles been reversed.

Now, the smart thing to do, Nabiki knew, was to stay silent until she could arrange some decent protection, then make his life a living hell for doing this. However, she was less immune to pride than some would think, and she was too used to things going her way to really realize yet that her usual habits should bow to a different set of rules for a moment.

So, instead, she snarled. "You'll never get away with this, Saotome. That safe isn't my only stockpile of information. I have contacts. I know everything there is to know about you, and what you don't want others to find out about. All I have to do is go to the police and report this assault. I'll have you squealing for mercy inside a week!" She promised, her gaze narrowing toward her tormentor as she followed this with a dire prediction. "And I don't think I'll be in the mood to be merciful."

Ranma stopped recounting to confirm he had the proper amount of cash and gave Nabiki his full attention. After a moment of contemplation, he gave a reluctant nod. "Yes, Nabiki. You'd do exactly that, wouldn't you? I had heard that nothing offends a thief so much as being robbed. I guess that is the case after all." He stood up. Suddenly his bare katana lay across Nabiki's throat, blade resting against her jugular.

"Well, then Nabiki. I've dealt with Yakuza before. The simplest way is always to kill them before they carry out their threats. You don't look smart enough to accept warnings, so I won't bother boring you with them. Now get up."

Realizing too late that she should have kept her mouth shut, Nabiki stood.

The cold-eyed samurai facing her nodded solemnly. "If I felt there was any chance at all you'd keep your word, I'd accept your surrender and offer a truce: You leave my family alone and I don't hurt yours..."

"That's acceptab..." the mercenary blurted, only to get cut off by a sudden pressure at her throat causing her to stop speaking before the motion opened an artery.

Still glaring at her with cold eyes, Ranma soberly shook his head. "No, Miss Tendo. I said if. I don't actually believe you'd keep your word. Fighting for my life shook a certain amount of naivete out of me. I don't trust those I don't feel are trustworthy anymore. I can recall too many bad experiences to do otherwise. So, I am afraid we are going to be taking a different course of action with you. First, you will get the largest backpack you can find."

Staring into those eyes, Nabiki obeyed without question. She didn't bother to run or call for help. She knew that sword moved faster than that. Instead, she went to get the bag, heading off to the guest room to grab a spare pack that Mr. Saotome sometimes used, moving carefully until the edge at her jugular eased off, blade hovering near but no longer pressing as Ranma followed her with every step.

"Very good," the samurai told her, once he'd guided the Ice Queen back into her room. "Now Nabiki, I'm going to give you a chance, which is more than you'd give me. You are never coming back to this room again, so pack your belongings. Whatever you wish to take with you is fine. I won't object."

"You're going to kill me," Nabiki declared, face white with fear.

Her answer was a calm yet resolved single shake of a solemn head. "No, you would not learn anything. I don't want to send your soul to the beyond as it is right now, you are so unenlightened you'd probably come back as a tapeworm or other parasite. However, I can see to it that you come to a greater understanding of human suffering, so you are less casual about inflicting it on others."

Swallowing heavily, Nabiki packed her bag. Cash and her cell phone went in first, along with her book of phone numbers. Then, to cover that, she started to pack outfits as if going on a trip. She didn't believe she'd be gone long before she could arrange a rescue, but then a thought occurred and she began to pack more seriously, just in case she had to stay at a hotel someplace until police and her daddy had made sure it was safe to come home - hopefully by locking this maniac behind very strong bars!

"Is that all you're taking?" Ranma inquired with calm yet dangerous eyes.

"It's all I can reasonably carry," the mercenary responded, hefting the weight. It wasn't so bad. She could still run with this on her back, and that was good. She had no idea how she was going to escape and call for help, but grew fairly certain that some mobility would be nice. And, after all, she didn't want to carry everything she owned!

She still believed that she was coming back inside of a few days.

Such were her thoughts as Nabiki allowed herself to be led downstairs. However, to her shock, once she'd gone to the entry way for her shoes, the crazy sword-wielding guy led her back into the dining room!

To her shock and horror, she found herself standing in front of the Lo Pan still lying in that room where they'd left it. Before she could start worrying about transformation or object possession, the samurai at her back informed her, "That, Nabiki Tendo, is an enchanted time travel device, and it's last setting I know of sent me catapulting back to the Meiji Revolution, one of the most blood-thirsty periods of our history, and one where no one could care less about your usual threats or tricks. As far as I know, travel by this is a one-way trip. I used other means to return. I give you this information as a slight advantage. Knowing how much you pride yourself on being smarter than others, I'm sure you'll make the best of things."

"Wait!" Nabiki shouted. "You've got to let me repack my bag!" she pleaded for a delay, ANY delay, from what she felt sure he was about to do. "I had no idea you had this kind of a trip in mind!"

"I told you, 'pack as though you're never going to return'," a soft but inflexible voice answered her in slightly mocking tones. "That you can't obey instructions properly is no fault of mine. I hope you enjoy your trip, or at least find it educational. Goodbye, Nabiki. I hope you realize that you made it impossible to leave you here as you were, and that I showed all the mercy I could in not destroying you outright, which is the only other alternative I know of. I really can't beat you at your game. So I don't try. I'm forced to beat you at mine instead and that's a far more deadly sport where most players stop playing because they stop breathing. However, you did insist on playing. So, in a way, I consider this adequate justice for your ugly deeds."

"WHAT ugly deeds?!" Nabiki panicked, looking for any way out of this, even just to put it off for a few seconds more while she desperately sought for something. But that sword was just too quick for darting around, so she discarded that idea at once.

The swordsman watched her carefully, yet answered, "You took advantage of the fact that when I came here I wouldn't use my powers to hurt anyone who didn't have any martial arts skill. However, you failed to offer me anything like the same common courtesy, using all your powers against me, gloating in the fact that I had no way to respond to them and was completely helpless against your attacks. You dishonored Ranko, and shamed her image when you sold pictures of her, caring nothing for the harm you did. So, you are now going to an age where women are owned. They ARE property, they do not own it. They are objects that can be bought and sold and have no say in that fate whatsoever - which is exactly the way you've always treated her. I hope you enjoy it. They do say turn-about is fair play. They don't have photographs back then, but perhaps some kami will enjoy the poetic justice enough so that you'll end up in a brothel. After all, you did your very best to turn everyone around you into a whore."

Nabiki would have continued pleading, begging for her life this time instead of just a delay, but a hard shove came at her back, sending her stumbling forward and coming in contact with the compass even though she'd tried to avoid it.

With a flash, she was gone.

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Steeped in misery, the Eternal Lost Boy wandered along, he thought through the streets of Tokyo, but as he passed Tokyo Tower, it was on the side with the misspelled sign - the one that said Eiffle, and was written in French.

Really, Tokyo wasn't that hard to spell, was it? But every time he'd stopped to explain that to the strangely dressed people in the bad neighborhood on this side, or just be kind and repaint their sign for them, there was always a tour group of French speakers who threw a fit and got all upset about it.

Absently turning a corner, he walked through one of those really bad neighborhoods with the car bombs and gunfire, before changing his course, planning on making a stop at Tokyo's Big Ben. That was one of those things really odd about Japan, they had all of these monuments that no one else would talk about! The last time he'd tried to ask his way back to the pyramids of that desert in Hokkaido, people had laughed him to scorn!

It was appalling, sometimes, the rudeness of his countrymen. Take these, for an example, the ones presently shouting at him to get down and good God was he crazy?

Crazy wasn't a nice thing to call anybody.

Using his umbrella to shield himself from the shrapnel of an exploding bus, Ryoga walking in between the burning automobiles, smacking a few rioters absently out of his way as he continued wandering, deep in thought.

Ranma had really scared him. But that wasn't right, because Ranma wasn't very frightening. So what had happened?

Pausing in the midst of a group threatening him with a bomb, the Lost Boy suddenly stopped. Rearing back he laughed, a bit demented to be sure, at his relief over having solved it all, incidentally scaring the suicide bombers packing in unheeded fright.

That wasn't Ranma!

How stupid! How come he hadn't seen so simple an answer before? The woman who'd scared him so couldn't be Ranma! She had an entirely different hairstyle! And she was a shrine maiden. Ranma wasn't a shrine maiden, so that wasn't Ranma! Besides, none of the Tendos seemed to know her either. And anyway, Ranma was still five years old! Why, that was the age that mothers were still taking their sons to the potty.

He'd been drawn in by the simple coincidence that she'd appeared in the exact spot that he'd expected Ranma to be!

But then a horrible thought chilled Ryoga's soul.

So.. if that hadn't been Ranma... where was Ranma and what was he doing now?

A return to his earlier thought brought a fresh sense of revulsion to the pig-boy. Why that fiend! Doubtless he was getting attractive young mothers to lead him to the potty! The depths to which he'd sunk! How dare he go around peeping on innocent young ladies, using his youth as an excuse!?!

Ryoga concluded that nothing was stopping that pervert from molesting even Akane in his present form, and that he'd have to do something quickly! He began racing as fast as he could run, quickly leaving the run down area with the gunfire and explosions, as he considered the dire implications, picturing a devil-horned, chibi-Ranma standing over Akane's prone and defeated figure, raising his hand in a victory sign. He started dashing through a very dirty but still much less violent area, where he paused to ask for directions.

Of course, Fate chose that moment for him to get struck in the head by a water balloon thrown by a five-year old kid. On witnessing this transformation, the ghetto children then immediately proceeded to loot his stuff, and Ryoga found himself in a cage in a kitchen, watching someone chop vegetables. Two five-year olds were laughing over a joke he couldn't understand, while a teenaged girl wore his clothes out to a friend's shop to have her gang logo sequined on them.

Blinking and wide-eyed, Ryoga came to realize that he'd never admitted before just how evil kids could be!

Oh well, even if he couldn't understand the language, the mother was being nice and kind. And the language problem was soon going to be over, as he'd overheard her saying to someone over the phone that she was going to take him out to be tutored!

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Once one of the seven temporary Ranmas rejoined the others at the Mirror Mansion they had all of the money they knew how to use and then some. Miukyo wisely chose to advise them to save most of it, and counted out to each of the seven enough to go on a good but not lavish date.

Anyone he had to spend an unreasonable amount of money wooing probably wasn't going to fit in his lifestyle anyway. So if she wanted a rich date, even if he had the money for it now, it probably wasn't the best idea to spend it anyway.

Dinner and a movie, plus some other activity unique to the girl, was probably the best way to go.

When asked how she was adapting so well to modern life again after having spent twenty years back in the Meiji, the ninja kindly bonked the caretaker who'd been rude in the way he'd asked, then answered anyway - that the first strength of a ninja was information, and they had a phone book there at the mansion. She'd called around to various restaurants and movie places, asking about their prices. Then, to double-check that, she'd called a few of the girls she'd known at Furinkan on their cells phones and chatted up what were good dates, as opposed to bad.

Their numbers had been written down in her address book at the Ucchan.

Somewhat startled over how a touch of research could make a risky mission like this one so much easier, the seven dream-reflection Ranmas had humbly gone along with her plans, submitting themselves to shopping trips accompanied by Miranko and Miukyo to get appropriate clothes before each going out to pick up their various dates.

Proof of how stoic in the face of suffering the young samurai was, he stayed calm throughout the shopping experience and, by acting decisively, was able to limit it to merely the morning hours, and not the day-long experience those two girls wanted it to be. Neither could deny the justice of his insistence, however, that he was only getting these clothes to go on dates, and there would be small point in getting anything whatsoever if he was going to skip the dates out of shopping too long.

They'd pouted, but accepted that line of reasoning, especially when he'd suggested that two of him stay with them so they could continue shopping in place of their own dates, and those girls had suddenly become very interested in calling the shopping trip off early so they could go back and get ready so they could be picked up on time.

Odd, that.

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By virtue of being a Sailor Scout, Amy was, along with Rae, one of Serena's best friends. And, if there was one virtue that shone out above her rest, it was that Serena was unswervably loyal to her friends.

Well, in the case of Rae they might nag and tease each other alot, but that was the limit, and, considering the fact that either one would die for the other, it didn't seem to matter too much in the long run.

Because they were Scouts together, they were friends and close friends at that. But that stuck the bubbly blonde in an awkward position at school that day, as that put her in possession of one of the choicest and juiciest bits of gossip to hit school that week - maybe even that month! But because of a somewhat hurt glare Amy gave her when she was about to spill all to the eager ears of the students around her, Serena did not feel she was in a position to share this delectably juicy tidbit.

Secrets were secrets and they would be kept. But what made the whole situation awkward was that it was two others of her closest friends, Melvin and Molly, who were prying at her, trying to get her to tell.

How could she choose one friendship over another?

For Scout secrets that choice was easy. Anything life-threatening did not get shared, and that seemed to cover the whole business of being Sailor Scouts.

But when it was just a date?

In the end, Serena caved to the pressure, just as her two pre-Scout friends knew she would. But her loyalty to Amy did not allow her to be sold out, any more than she could keep denying the repeated requests from her other two friends.

So what happened was something else, a third option where she didn't have to choose one friendship over another.

She sold herself out.

"I'm sorry guys. Amy's just being nice, covering for me. The truth is, I am the one with a date today. She was just trying to remind me of that at the school gates." The blonde bowed her head, awaiting the explosions that were sure to follow.

Molly's response was a huge intake of breath. "Omigawd, really? Oh, Serena, that's so sweet! What's he like? Tell me all about him!"

Melvin adjusted his coke-bottle-bottom glasses. "Yah, I thought as much earlier. You should have told me sooner, Serena! Now I've wasted practically the whole day when I should have been out telling people! People depend on me, and this is going to be old news by tomorrow."

A warm glow of approval came from Amy's chair at this evidence of confession, and suddenly Serena didn't feel so bad. Touching a finger to her lips, she declared, "Actually, I don't know all that much about him. This is supposed to be a 'getting to know you' date."

"How can you be dating him if you don't know much about him?" Melvin demanded. "You've got friends and people much closer to you. You should go out with them!"

Pretending not to notice the nerd adjusting his hair in a pitiful attempt to look better on short notice, Molly and Serena focused on each other. "So, like, wow! You must have really fallen for him quick if you wanted to go out right away! Tell me, how did you meet him? Is he handsome?"

The unrevealed Moon Princess sighed, getting hearts in her eyes. "Oh, yeah! He is SO dreamy and handsome! If he were ice cream I would just gobble him up!" Then she lost her blush as she came to face the awful realization of the other question she had to answer. She glanced at the bell, hoping for a rescue, but it was still fifteen minutes before the final release from classes.

There was no way she was going to be able to stall them that long!

Pushing her two fingers together, ducking her head and resuming a soft pink blush, the unpowered Sailor Moon searched for what she could say - but looking inside a part of her heart had already selected a part of the truth.

"Well, you see, it's like this guys." She laughed nervously, putting an arm behind her head as she incidentally drew the attention of half the class. "Welll," she singsonged. "You know..." she took a deep breath, then noticed how many people were staring at her and froze up.

Grabbing her friends hands, she darted out of her desk and dragged them over the a more private corner of the room, where she blurted, "You see, his daddy arranged it. He and I met on the same day that his father decided that maybe I would make a good wife for his son, and so we are to be going on some dates to see if that should happen, or not."

"You mean, it's like an OMIAI!!??" Molly shouted so loud half of the school must have heard her.

Instant staring.

Serena blushed, rubbing the back of her head, eyes closed trying not to notice all of the stares she was getting. She answered in a normal tone of voice to enlighten a class that was already raptly listening, "Yah, you could say that. If this works out, marriage is the goal."

There is an Asian shrimp dish where life shrimp are tossed on a very hot plate to fry. At this pronouncement her class got about that active. There was an explosion of activity from all sides, all at once, and Serena nearly got washed away in the tide.

Trying to fend them off, she waved her hands while admitting more details, hoping that feeding those gossip-sharks would keep them away, or at least appeased and not crushing her. "Yah, he promised to pick me up after school today!"

"What does he look like?" Chorused what seemed like half a dozen female voices.

"So, would you say he looked like that?" Melvin pointed to a young samurai standing at the entrance to the school.

"Actually," said Serena, with a dumbfounded look on her face as the crowds parted around her. "That's him."

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The Kuno family was one of those fortunates, in that, while it did not come to them through direct descent, they had in their possession one of those original portraits done of the near-legendary flame-haired Ranko. This one was among the most rare, a battle scene. But what made it precious was that it was one of considerably less than half where her eyes were open. Most portraits had understandably been done while she was in repose, as she was far, far easier to paint while unconscious, and tended to disappear soon after waking up. A few minor errors had crept in to some as artists had been forced to finish their works by memory alone.

There were no less than four unfinished portraits, where the painter had died in her escape, usually after drawing a weapon to stop her (but, in one case, falling off of a balcony after having slipped on fresh blood during cleanup well after the maiden was gone).

Because they were so fortunate, the Kuno family had considerable pull with the other old families that had also held onto their portraits in private collections. Naturally, one of the first arrangements to be made was to permit those originals to be copied by suitably skilled artists, so that duplicates existed (all plainly labeled as such, so as not to reduce the value of the original artworks - but if you go by the Louvre, you can find art students selling close, extremely close, reproductions with a deliberate fault or two to avoid forgery laws).

Thus had the Kunos developed, though the years, a nearly complete collection of reproductions of those ancient paintings. They'd even reproduced their own a few times, so they could store the original under ideal conditions in a deeply buried vault, while still having an image to look at.

Tatewaki had made an unprecedented move. He'd obtained copies of both his family's collection and his private stock of photographs of the pigtailed girl (the more tasteful ones, of course - those taken by his faithful ninja servant, as a photo-history of her maidenly life, as opposed to the scandalous and indecent though still indecently interesting ones sold by Nabiki Tendo), and was arranging an art gallery, showing forth copies of all remaining flame-haired Ranko portraits, compared side-by-side with those pictures of the pigtailed girl, for a three-day special one-time showing at a shrine he'd rented for the occasion.

Nothing needed to be said. There was no text required. That simple comparison of pictures and portraits side by side alone was convincing enough. No further arguments had to be made. For a people who believed in reincarnation, the resemblance was too uncanny to take as a coincidence. It was plain to all who opened their eyes to see that the original flame-haired Ranko walked among them again.

Arguably one of the most convincing aspects to the whole arrangement was that it was plain the girl in those modern photographs wasn't trying to look like the historical figure. She'd deliberately avoided using the same clothes or hairstyle. She was laughing and smiling and playing at modern girl pursuits like eating ice cream. The fact that she was so convincingly similar in spite of no effort made to look or act the same was probably the most telling argument that could be made.

This, of course, interested several major parties as it was chiefly the wealthy or powerful that were able to use their influence to obtain opportunities to attend this invitation-only showing of some of the rarest and most valuable images in Japan.

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Author's Notes:  
I don't know what to say, so should say nothing except to give my heartfelt thanks to all of those who reviewed.

So far more material for this keep upwelling as if there was no end to the flow. I think I've published more in these past two weeks than in my first six months of writing - and you know what? I'm glad, and very grateful that's its all coming so easily now.

Let's all hope that it continues to flow so well (or better!) in the future, okay?


	6. Chapter 6

Ruroni Ranko  
Chapter Six

by Skysaber  
aka Jared Ornstead

During the mushroom incident events diverge from normal and enemies try to take advantage of our pigtailed hero. Unfortunately for them, attempts to get rid of him often go disastrously wrong.

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Nabiki Tendo had arrived in a different age. She'd thought she'd known about it, but gazing out upon it in present-tense, she admitted she was wrong.

Oh, sure, they'd studied some of the history of that era, touched on it several times from more than one side actually, between all of the classes she'd taken. She knew a bit about the food they ate, what they wore, who some of the major figures were, and a whole lot of politics mixed with some important battles.

But it wasn't real.

It's like hearing about Disneyland and the Superbowl, then thinking you are prepared to visit America. That summary was for school children who didn't care about their subject in the slightest, except for memorizing just enough to regurgitate out on a test to achieve a grade they wanted.

The skimmed-over brush given to this period of history had sounded complete to her when she'd been on the other end of a teacher's desk, more concerned about betting pools and manipulating her fellow students. But for every major historical figure she knew of, and for every battle, there were hundreds if not thousands she knew nothing about, all of them with their effects on history.

For example, the American Revolution was alot more than George Washington and Gettysburg, with a Declaration of Independence thrown in there somewhere. It was a complicated mosaic of people, places, battles and politics that made sense when viewed in context of a myriad of details as fully intricate and interlocked as ordinary lives are, and the summary left out so much detail it sounded almost trivial "Oh, and they fought a war and won."

Think for a moment how simplified an obituary is: birth date and place, name, family and cause of death. Then compare that to your own life to get an idea how much is missing. Where did you go to school? Who were your friends? What did you do with your time?

Imagine, for a moment, you had read such a person's obituary and had only those facts about them, then you had to claim to know them. How was knowing where they were born going to help you conduct yourself around people who did know them? There were so many missing facts you're better off not trying to pass yourself off as knowing them at all.

Nabiki found she knew effectively nothing about the period, much less than the natives. And what facts she did know were actively scaring her out of her wits.

First of all, the individual had no legal rights in Tokugawa Japan. The family was the smallest legal entity, and the maintenance of family status and privileges was of great importance at all levels of society.

Obviously, as she was standing there alone, she had no family, or at least none who would recognize her. That left her with all of the legal status of a stray animal or missing pet. Anyone could do just about anything they wanted to her, and no one was going to say 'boo' to stop them.

Except, people were more likely to rescue a missing pet.

Secondly, out of all potential excuses for knowing next to nothing about her present environment, none sounded appealing. She knew Europeans who landed on Japanese shores were put to death without trial, with the exception of the Dutch traders based on an artificial island in Dejima. She also knew that native Japanese were by and large forbidden from leaving native shores, and those who did leave were forbidden from ever returning.

So she couldn't afford to have anyone viewing her as an outsider, but an outsider was what she effectively was. Thus placing her in even more dangerous circumstances, as not only was she an individual, and thus without protections or rights, she stood out as one. By not being able to blend in, she effectively advertised that she had no one to protect her. Even her native Japanese language skills were tainted by future dialect and loaned words borrowed from English and other languages, and so would stand out.

Having arrived as children, both Ukyo and Ranma had not stood out like she was, as children were expected to be imperfect in many of their skills, language among them. But she did not have that excuse, being seventeen in an age where people were often doing a full adult's workload at age twelve.

Heck, if she were a peasant, she really ought to have been married with one or two babies by now, keeping house for a husband, and shouldering an immense workload of cooking, laundry, and other chores.

An awful lot like Kasumi, actually.

With a sick feeling in her stomach, Nabiki realized that here in the past she was just as helpless as Ranma had been back when she'd had him under her thumb and he hadn't any of the skills necessary to get out from under her control.

Now that shoe was on the other foot.

Because, staring around at the hardworking peasants around the rice paddy she'd landed in, Nabiki realized with a sick, sinking sensation, that all of the rules were different here. The way she was being stared at made that obvious.

Thankfully, even if he didn't realize the extent to which he'd done it, Ranma had granted her warnings about an important one or two ahead of time, and some of the rest she could guess what what little she did know.

For one, she was wearing a school uniform whose skirt ended comfortably below the knee. Modest in Nerima, yet in this environment she may as well hang a sign around her neck 'whore for hire'. Worse, all of the clothes she'd packed in her bag were what she'd always considered 'casual wear', including cut off shorts, midriff barring shirts, tight jeans and sexy blouses, all clothes in which she felt attractive or desirable.

Being attractive or desirable gave you something others wanted. It had allowed her to chisel more than one date into an expensive evening that left him in momentary poverty. However, that equation worked by one simple rule that no longer applied - it all hinged on the girl's ability to refuse and say 'no' at any point, to any suitor, and make her refusal stick.

Ranma had already dropped an important hint about the dangers of this era: that that was no longer the case. Women did not have that right here, only their families, and she had none who'd stand up for her.

That one rule change made the whole attractiveness paradigm different. It was now no longer an advantage to have a body others wanted, as those others were in a position to take it as often as not. The powerful of this day and age took what they wanted, and only another powerful person or a group of could stop them. And, if you didn't have land and the wealth that came from it, or a position attached to someone who did, the only power worth mentioning was martial arts.

Nabiki was starting to see the irony of her punishment by that point.

When Ranma had come to Nerima she'd had the advantage, known the rules of her environment, and used that against him to deadly effect. He'd been helpless before her all because of one simple rule of his: that it wasn't honorable to use his skills against those who couldn't defend themselves.

She'd used that as a weakness against him.

Feudal Japan did not have that rule. This was an era where the strong took what they wished and everyone else had to shut up and deal with it or fight back and get crushed, and that rule held true from the Shogun on down. The whole stoic image, along with all of the elaborate forms of politeness that marked the Japanese so, was built upon not offending anyone stronger than you, who'd then make sure you'd regret it.

Now suddenly that simple 'weakness' she'd always preyed upon and used against the ignorant sap had real meaning to the girl. It was life. It was breath. It was one of the most beautiful things ever created. Because that was a basic rule that made life so very different between the Edo period and the one she was accustomed to and comfortable with.

The girl considered her options, then she ran toward the forest, and cover, away from the prying eyes of those peasant villagers. Some of the more lecherous of those guys were already showing signs they saw her and were developing intentions toward her she'd have been happy to encourage, then squelch, under better circumstances.

But now that rule set was different. They were bigger than her. She hadn't practiced any martial arts for years, and wasn't about to trust her rusty skills in that area with anything so precious as her life and virginity. And, the friends and neighbors who would have enforced restraint in any other environment were all looking like they'd all like to join in the gang bang when one or more of their number eventually caught her.

Looking at how the male villagers looked at her, Nabiki suddenly felt like a sake bottle set out in the middle of a crowd of drunkards. No one was going to stop anyone else from taking some so long as they got their share.

She wasn't liking what she found, as she considered her options, even while rushing in among those trees, plunging deeper into the woods in search of cover.

First order of business was to find some new clothes, something modest enough not to go bragging about what an extraordinary body she had, particularly by the standards of the day. Something making her clothing situation worse still, was it wasn't simply indecent by local standards. It wasn't based on anything traditionally Japanese, and if any of those guys back there thought about it, they'd probably take the cut of her current mode of dress for a European style. Her hairstyle too, more than likely.

She was full-blooded Japanese, and they'd be able to tell that. But between her accent and her clothes they'd almost certainly conclude that she'd left Japan's shores to travel abroad, and that meant she'd be under an automatic death sentence for having left and then returned. And yet there was nothing stopping them from 'playing' with her before they carried out that sentence, or even keeping her around as a slave until they decided to execute her. In suspecting her of having traveled, they had the perfect blackmail material to control her, if they wanted, and could therefore use and abuse her as they wished.

She didn't expect she'd enjoy such a life, even if they didn't kill her.

So she HAD to get new clothing. That was not optional. But even after she did that, her situation still didn't look so good.

She was an outsider, and defenseless. So nobody would feel bad about abusing her. From those stories she'd read it was a very clannish and insular period where people stood together for what protection they could offer, and strangers would be viewed with scorn or suspicion at least, outright hostility at worst, even if they didn't stand out as possible 'having traveled abroad' prey to whom you could do anything. Humble peasants would kill wandering samurai in their sleep just to steal their armor, weapons and clothes.

If she wanted to be honest with herself, good old 'law and order' only reached so far as the sword of the person enforcing it, and those men were out to pursue their own interests, not look out for yours. She'd often read, more than once, about leaders ordering trusted subordinates to commit ritual suicide, and then banishing their families after they did so. Why? Not because of anything those retainers did, but because they stood in the way of something their lord wanted.

So, directly after getting ahold of a change of outfits so as to not stand out so badly, the second item on her priority list was to get a protector.

How to get one was a problem all on its own. Soun's middle daughter had to face, in a moment of survival-inspired honesty as she crawled deep in a thicket of tangled bushes, that she wasn't all that good at earning trust, only abusing it. And you couldn't abuse the trust of a person who didn't trust you. So that ruled out most of her usual tricks as far as controlling people went. She couldn't, therefore, just twist their arm into protecting her.

In a worst case, she could hire someone. But where would the money come from? Money could cure so many ills. But how to get some local currency?

She supposed she could run a betting pool. However the first time someone lost a bet to her they'd probably kill her instead of paying it off. They'd find a reason to pick a fight, or accuse her of cheating, and that would be the end of her. A samurai could kill her himself, while an angry peasant would have to gather together a group of his friends, but either way she would be dead if anyone was of a mind to do so to her.

She was not interested in that course of action.

Blackmail depended on having information others didn't want you to reveal. Nabiki had started that selling out her sister Akane, and using pictures of her (pictures that boys didn't want their girlfriends to know they'd bought) to get holds on other people, who'd then given her extra information, and so on in a steadily building web.

Well, information came from contacts, and she had none. Besides, none of her usual tricks for getting girls to sell out their families to her would work around here. Families meant everything to a person. They were your source of protection and well-being, providing all of the necessities of living and your only shelter from the rest of an often hostile society.

Odd, but Nabiki Tendo had never truly appreciated what her often oddball family meant to her until that moment, crouching in a ball at the center of some bushes with her knees drawn up to her chest as she struggled not to sob or cry aloud in fear. Others hadn't bullied her because she'd always been able to call on her martial artist daddy and kid sister for protection. She'd never had to concern herself over food or laundry because Kasumi took care of it. They'd had a nice home and a comfortable state of living...

... and she'd been a greedy, domineering bitch who hadn't appreciated it at all.

If she could have gone back to her old life at that moment she would have given a sincere kiss of gratitude to every one of them, flaws and all. But sadly, she didn't have that option.

Probably for the best, as she would have gone back to her old ways within a week.

As those lecherous local peasants beat the bushes of the forest looking for her, the temporally displaced girl tried to focus her thoughts on what to do, instead of miserably trying to control her terror and biting her thumb to avoid screaming and drawing all of them to her.

Halfway through a prayer her mother taught her, quietly mumbled so as not to draw any notice except, hopefully, from the God it was aimed to, Nabiki realized that was another nail in her coffin, as if she'd needed more. Her mother had been Christian. Kasumi still wore her cross around her neck.

Nabiki hadn't cared much one way or another before, but as the saying goes 'there are no atheists in foxholes'. When your life is on the line, everyone finds religion, or so the folklore went. Having a dad like Soun was all that was needed to turn one off of ancestor worship permanently, so it was the prayers her mother cared enough to teach her that the frightened girl had caught herself mumbling.

Christianity was another one of those things punished by automatic death without a trial if discovered in Tokugawa Japan. She felt sure she knew enough about Shinto to get by, but then again, merely her knowledge of Christianity picked up at her mother's knee was almost certainly enough to get her killed, whether she practiced it or not.

As if she needed another problem or more secrets to hide.

On the other hand, those softly muttered prayers had comforted her in a way not easy to find when all your mortal prospects looked dim. So, shoving aside morbid thoughts of just how many ways she was in potential deadly danger, she tried once more to force her mind to focus on ways to resolve the problem.

Bribery was another standby of her tactics, but again that depended on something she didn't have, namely something of value (she didn't consider using her body an option, and no one would want her clothes, for the same reasons she didn't).

Not able to implement or risk blackmail, bribery or betting and she was beginning to run short on her usual tactics. She had no photographic equipment with her, and no way to develop pictures even if she did. She had a cell phone, but it would be at least a hundred and twenty years before she would get a signal, which also made her book of phone numbers useless.

She had carried some cash back with her, but it was all in paper money, which was utterly useless unless she wanted to wipe her bum on it, and she still couldn't bring herself to do that. Using yen notes as toilet paper would be the final acknowledgement that she'd given up all hopes of going back, and she wasn't going to do that without a struggle.

No, Ranma had found a way back. So would she.

Once those peasants had passed, but before they doubled back to perform a more careful search, Nabiki crawled out and ran another way, cutting across the angle of pursuit to escape out the side of their impromptu chase pattern.

Arriving at a deep enough point behind the cover of those trees, Nabiki paused for breath. So far no one was chasing her on her new route, that was good. Her clothes weren't torn up by the run past brambles and branches, that was also excellent, and she berated herself for being so careless with them so early on. When these got torn to rags she'd have nothing decent to replace them. All of her usual outfits were indecent by current standards, which was not an advantage, but at least they were clothes.

Although, as she considered it, at least if she were seen running around naked they'd be less likely to assume that she'd left Japan, then returned, thus earning an execution.

Shaking herself clear of that thought, and the prostitution that would surely result from it, Nabiki delved into her pack and pulled out her favorite set of pajamas - the ones with the yen signs on them.

Not even feeling a twinge of discomfort over ruining what had been a favorite article of clothing, Nabiki knelt by a stream, one with a clay bed, and proceeded to mash the clay into the fabric of her pajamas, before washing it out again and repeating it a couple of times.

As kids they'd gone camping with their dad fairly often, until Akane had gotten lost in a forest filled with giant animals and Soun's overprotectiveness assured that they'd never gone camping again. But Nabiki found to her pleasure the old skills of washing clothes in a stream still returned to her after all of those years.

Standing up again after half an hour of washing and beating, in between mashing and starting all over again, the middle daughter of Soun Tendo stood up to admire her new clothes. They were clay colored, which was a simple but effective dye that had ruined some of her outfits as a kid, before she'd learned to avoid it. But the simple cut of her pajamas was almost the same clothing style as worn by those peasants she'd seen. Combined with one of those conical reed hats that had fallen off of one of their heads during the chase, and she had picked up on her escape, and she'd look almost normal from a distance.

She stripped out of her school uniform and placed it in her pack before dressing in her pajamas and newly acquired reed hat. The dyed cloth was still soaking wet, but it was a warm day and they would dry out fast enough as she wore them.

It was a starting point. The rest could flow from there, or so she hoped.

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In the bright Tokyo sunshine Kasumi was taking Akane to a special one-time-only art exhibit by Kuno, getting permission to enter only because he knew them (and even then, the lines stretch for hours long). But it truly seemed to be the best way to get her sister's mind off of her current problems and allow her face to heal.

She was broody, and when she got broody Akane scowled, and that wasn't letting those cuts heal.

Stepping up to the front of the line at last, the eldest Tendo girl presented their invitations and, after a short wait, they were admitted inside, where they were met by Kuno himself.

"Good morning, Kuno-san," Kasumi greeted him with an appropriate bow. "It was very kind of you to invite us."

Akane's face, though hidden behind bandages, had gone white as she'd stared around at all of the artwork - depicting dozens of portraits of Ranko done at lifesize, just from what she could see from standing near the entrance.

A small but very well developed trigger at the back of her mind wanted to go rip and tear them to shreds, as she wasn't feeling very fond of her fiance just now. However, it must be said, somehow the presence of armed security guards posted prominently around each of these priceless reproductions gave her a small pause.

So instead she screamed, "Why are there pictures of that BAKA all over the place?"

Instantly Akane stood alone, surrounded by empty space, as the high and mighty of Japan gave her a wide berth. Even Kasumi, quite by accident, found herself standing over ten feet away as her youngest sister became the focus of ire from some of the wealthiest families and business tycoons in the country.

Several guards approached to remove her, but a gesture from Kuno held them at bay for a moment.

"Akane," he spoke mildly, but with utter calm to his convictions. "I know of your rivalry with the pigtailed girl for my affections. Long have you struggled to surpass her in my noble eyes. However, at last it has come to a time when, I, the noble son of the House of Kuno, am going to show to the world how I am about to claim my very own flame-haired Ranko!"

A bolt of lightning split the clear blue sky and thunder rolled at his pronouncement.

"Wha... what did you say?" Akane stumbled over the words, unaware that at Kuno's statement of her supposed rivalry with Ranko, most of the ire toward her ceased from the female half of her offended audience, as they could suddenly understand - or so they thought. After all, very few of them could match Ranko's beauty, and they could understand a bit of jealousy from a girl who'd had to try.

The male half of those wealthy or powerful enough to witness this unseemly display felt they could understand too, but weren't about to forgive a slight to their Ranko anyway.

Akane's mind was practically a blur with thoughts and images. She'd never made the connection before, but standing there, gaping and staring at those portraits, she recognized at last the one or two that had had reprints in one of her school art or history books.

That was the legendary flame-haired Ranko!

Now here, it must be said, Akane's usual deductive ability came into play. The one where she'd add two plus two and reach seventeen, or twenty three, or negative one hundred and twenty six, depending on which screw was loose at the time. As there were a great deal of screws loose, rattling around in there, one could never tell what conclusion the girl would reach given perfectly reasonable and straightforward information.

She knew who the legendary flame-haired Ranko was, of course. Ranko and Hideki was actually her favorite play, displacing Romeo and Juliet by quite a large margin. Three times her elementary school had put that on, and each time she'd gotten chosen as Hideki (after having applied for the part of Ranko).

Like most Japanese girls she'd gone through a phase where she'd wallowed in tears of jealousy over her fiery hair and voluptuous figure. And again, like most Japanese girls, she'd never truly gotten over it completely. It was always lurking there, somewhere in the background, pretty much all of the time she'd see someone who reminded her of that ideal.

But connecting that ideal of legendary Japanese femininity with her fiance was just impossible! She'd never once made that connection!

Why... that would be like admitting that her cooking was actually terrible!

Okay, she might have had one or two little problems with a recipe every now and then, but she knew most of the times Ranma said something about it he was just being a jerk, as usual. It couldn't be that she'd been that bad. Besides, even if it was, that jerk deserved it for saying those things anyway!

But, for the first time, she'd added two and two together and reached a reasonable approximation of four, as she stared about at the lifesize portraits and photographs blown up, side by side, and realized that, you know, Ranma's girl side DID look alot like flame-haired Ranko after all!

Of course, she immediately had to sour that admittedly unique triumph of accuracy in deduction by glowing red and shouting to the heavens, "THAT PERVERT! I always knew he was running around, trying to seduce all of Japan!!!"

Just imagine! That jerk was trying to impersonate flame-haired Ranko! There was no way she was going to let him get away with sullying the image of one of her heroes!

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After having traveled for half of a day, chasing Genma while staying hidden along the way, Seijuro and Ukyo came to a stop as the old man (who'd finally reached fairly deep in some mountains) came to what looked like his destination.

"The Red Hot Tea House?" Ukyo muttered in disbelief.

"Do recall that our quarry did say he was going to visit a brothel in search of those unsealing techniques. It is hardly surprising he has found one," her brand new father figure murmured right back to calm her, earning a touch more of her trust as he did so, acting like a respectable father - and, it must be said, a more comforting one than her own natural one.

Both martial artists suddenly whirled, weapons out and ready, to face the kunoichi who'd come up behind them. Seeing she posed no threat, both relaxed their guard, and blinked. In almost eerie unison, they addressed the newcomer in stereo, "You are a guy."

Konatsu blinked at this sudden revelation, then bowed his head. "Never have I been exposed so quickly before. May I welcome you to the Red Hot Tea House?"

Ukyo was eying the ninja before her, dressed in patched up rags and looking pathetically hungry. Her experience in the past did permit her to miss the obvious signs of mistreatment. "Oh, we aren't here for your normal business, sugar. Besides, I am already gleefully married. No, we came in search of an unsealing technique, used to correct a certain celibacy ritual performed by monks around here."

Konatsu's eyes flicked over Seijuro, who was still on passive guard, and dismissed him as the subject needing such treatment. Angling his head, he asked, "Who requires this technique?"

"My husband, who was kidnapped and had the ritual performed on him unwillingly when he was only a kid," Ukyo informed the pretty, if badly dressed, fellow ninja. Then her heart broke and she whipped out her portable griddle, starting to pour batter. "Why don't we discuss it over lunch?"

The bedraggled kunoichi's eyes began to water in mysterious delight.

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Ranma had been split into eight copies that were essentially solid dreams, while his real self slept in the magic mirror that generated those clones. One of the copies had been 'poofed' right away, as part of a demonstration by the caretaker that they weren't very strong or durable. But the remaining seven were plenty to take his rather large crowd of girls out on dates.

After one of those dream clones had brought back a sizable stack of cash from Nabiki, in payment for all those many long months of being used as a cash cow by her, there was plenty and to spare to suit them for quite some time.

With the dates all planned out by Miukyo, and outfits chosen for each of him by both her and Miranko, there wasn't a great deal left to do but show up.

For courtesy to each girl, as well as to avoid any unwanted explanations, each dream body of Ranma would be taking the girl assigned to him to a different restaurant in a different area, just to avoid any mixups or confusion.

Miukyo and Miranko left on their dates with their dream clones direct from the Mirror Mansion. Miranko and her date weren't aware of the fact that they were being followed discretely by reporters as they went through gardens, had dinner at an open-air restaurant, and enjoyed all of the beauty of youth and springtime.

Though one or two reporters did get kicked out of the movie theater, for their camera gear had given the management reason to suspect they were there to make a bootleg copy of the film being featured - NOT to spy on two of those watching it. Thus, the couple quite unintentionally shook their tails and were able to have a successful and joyful evening together, most of which was spent in sappy moments, staring into each other's eyes with hands clasped together in romantic bliss.

Miukyo had a date no less eventful, as she and her dream clone of her hubby went to a good Italian restaurant, and she'd been shocked to discover an octopus mask hidden in her spaghetti dish.

Chasing down the octopus that had put it there to an empty field, she and Ranma came upon an old rival Ukyo had had in her youth - another member of an ancient ninja clan who's secrets had been passed down only after having gotten watered down during one of those disarmament periods the country had gone through, and whose ninjitsu style survived only in the form of a cooking art, much like hers, only focused on making those little octopus dumplings called takoyaki.

Ukyo had beaten the boy in a challenge match when they were both ten years old, and as a result of this defeat (and the promise he'd made before the fight) the boy had ever since worn a stupid looking octopus mask, and would continue to do so because of his faithful loyalty in keeping his word, until he'd defeated Ukyo.

Hayato Myojin led off with his 800 Strikes of the Octopus King, sending a veritable rain of high-velocity takoyaki to impact upon...

... nothing. Because of Ukyo's training in her unadulterated art form in the past, she was able to disappear from before her opponent, reappear behind him, and bind him up in binding yakisoba noodles.

Hey, she'd not been expecting any ninja battles. Her ropes were back at the house.

Still, having defeated the opponent, Ranma intervened to offer the poor defeated guy an alternative to his masked life - offering him an opportunity to switch out one oath for another, becoming a Hiko family retainer in exchange for losing the mask.

Hey, the guy had already demonstrated a surreal amount of loyalty to his promises, and he was almost Ukyo's equal as a chef and martial artist before her trip back into the past. They could use someone like that to hold down the fort during their wanderings.

Miukyo had thought that a fine idea, and pretty soon Ranma (who had unparalleled construction skills from all those trades he'd acquired trying to avoid delays in his martial arts training under Seijuro, when Kenshin was still the favored student) had expanded Ucchan's into a double restaurant, with separate, divided apartments for Ukyo, her mirror clone, and Hayate above the main floor dining area.

Hayato was a takoyaki artist, not okanomiyaki, so the chefs didn't know each other's recipes, thus the reason for the 'two restaurants under one roof' approach with two kitchens but shared tables. The idea was that, between the three of them, they'd be able to keep at least one side of her restaurant open in spite of any missions or martial arts training journeys they went on.

Open businesses earned money. Closed ones did not. And money often solved problems that swords could not, so it was a useful thing to have.

As for the other dates... well, some of them had more interesting results.

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Author's Notes:

Hi! I use the American Sailor Scouts names for two reasons. One is a secret, and two is that's the version I have seen. I'd actually love to watch the uncut originals, but those and I have never crossed paths. If anyone can point me to some I'd be grateful. Perhaps even grateful enough to change some things.

I only do crossovers with series I've seen and, when you come down to it (with the exception of a handful of Stars episodes graciously loaned to me by Gregg Sharp) I've never seen the original Japanese Sailor Moon with subtitles.


	7. Chapter 7

Ruroni Ranko  
Chapter Seven

by Skysaber  
aka Jared Ornstead

During the mushroom incident events diverge from normal and enemies try to take advantage of our pigtailed hero. Unfortunately for them, attempts to get rid of him often go disastrously wrong.

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In most of my stories I like to play with the power on 'high'.

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Amy and Serena had an interesting time being picked up for their dates, but it all worked out well.

Serena, propelled by a flood of fellow students who wanted to eavesdrop on the conversation, got shoved directly out of the classroom and down the steps, out the doors and to the meeting, where both she and her date were surrounded by curious listeners - although, only Melvin was obnoxious enough to tape-record what they said to each other.

Amy, who was very interested in making her way to that meeting herself, hoped that Serena would hold him there long enough for her to go get changed. Also, it wasn't her best fantasy to go on a date with two girls and one guy, but she was willing to try it once so long as she didn't advertise that over the whole school!

So, she went off to the locker room to change outfits while hoping for the crowds to die down.

Ranma's dream clone met Serena at the gates with a bunch of flowers and a bow. "Serena-chan, you look lovely," he repeated the words the two mirror-clone-girls had coached him on. Standing up straighter, he greeted her with a smile. "I was thinking we could catch a movie and then dinner, but the first show isn't for another couple of hours. So if there is something you'd like, I'm sure we could fit that in. Or, if not, I have several suggestions. We could even switch the order to have a late lunch before the movie instead of an early dinner after."

"Ooh!" the blonde's eyes glittered as she clasped her hands and bent forward imploringly. "Do you think we could have lunch and dinner? Hey! Maybe we could even blow a few hours at the arcade!"

Ranma smiled softly and warmly. "I think that sounds like a fine evening."

Instantly, Serena had grasped his hand and was off like a rocket, dragging him along behind. The crowds dispersed and Amy came puffing up a moment later, having run to try and not be too late.

Another Ranma stepped out from concealment behind a pillar, where he'd waited, with another bundle of flowers and a similarly bright smile. "Hello Amy."

"Thank you for waiting," the bluenette tried not to pant too hard, leaning a hand against the school gate so she could steady herself. Then she glanced around. "Hey, where's Serena?"

Instead of answering, Ranma's dream body leaned close to kiss her on the cheek. As he did so, he whispered in her ear. "You know about magic. I am using a special device that allows me to be in more than one place today. It should wear off at sunset, but until then I was hoping to have a fun day alone with each of you!"

He stood back and smiled.

Amy was a delicate person with a heart of steel. She'd been allergic to love letters, but got misty-eyed over scenes of her fellow Scouts getting touches of romance. That was her first kiss, even if it was on the cheek, so on one hand she felt she ought to have been collapsing into a heap just about now, face aflame and dizzy.

On the other hand, it had been a very light kiss, and he'd used the action to impart a secret that couldn't be shared out in the open in public, like they were. And, it was important information, too.

She felt very special that she got her own date when she'd geared herself up to have to share. So she focused on the flowers instead. They were lovely, and when she smelled them she discovered they were equally nice to smell as to look at.

Ranma inadvertently interrupted her internal debate over whether she should be allowing herself to get sick over this attention or not.

"Serena is already with one of me at the Crown Arcade, and between playing the games and eating there seems to be having a marvelous time. Rae and I were just able to catch an early matinee at the movies, but we're a little late for that ourselves unless we want to miss the first few minutes. I was thinking dinner and a movie, plus something else, and since this is a 'get to know you' sort of date, I was hoping you had suggestions?"

The samurai lifted an eyebrow to accompany a kind yet curious smile.

Amy buried her blushing face in those flowers. "I really don't know. I spend most of my free time reading."

His face warmed as he took her by the waist and led her off. "I think that's a fine idea. I've always regretted not making more out of my schooling. Why don't we swing by a deli and some bookshops, then take what we find to a park where we can eat and read to each other." Here he laughed. "And if you want to study some history, I can offer unique insights."

"Why is that?" the offer of books was probably enough to keep Amy from fainting at having a boy put his arm around her waist. Just barely enough, but still.

With a bold laugh, so much like his adopted father, he told her, "Time travel. I was a fairly ordinary student one ward over, who got sent back to live in the last days of Tokugawa Japan for ten years. The Meiji Revolution had started before I left to return here. Why don't I tell you all about it?"

"That sounds fine!" Amy agreed enthusiastically, her academic interest overriding her romantic anemia.

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"I don't think you are supposed to laugh quite so hard during the fight scenes," Rae told her date after the initial scenes of the movie had passed from the 'dramatic entrance' to the plot building parts of the story.

"I couldn't help it." Ranma had to wipe tears of mirth from his eyes. "They were supposed to be so deadly serious, and..." he couldn't suppress a chortle at their 'fighting' styles. "It all just turned out so hilarious!"

He got glares from some of the other movie patrons at his noise.

Rae just sank back deeper into her seat. So far, this date wasn't going so well. She'd later grow to accept that he was a highly trained swordsman, one of the absolute best from a very competitive and deadly era, and that the studio choreography using actors with low or no effective training in those same sword arts would be too ridiculous to ignore. A bit like they'd all just whipped out cream pies and started to throw them at each other. Pretending that sort of thing was serious was itself hilarious. So she could hardly blame him for chortling.

But for right now she wasn't feeling so charitable.

That was when her date suddenly froze in his seat, staring bug-eyed out toward the screen. Following his gaze, Rae saw that they'd just introduced the heroine, who'd come out on screen. "What? Didn't you know that this was a flame-haired Ranko film?"

"B.. but..." the samurai weakly pointed a finger. "That's my mom."

Rae's startled gaze fixed on the famous actress indicated.

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Nodoka was blessed. There was no doubt of that. Though she did not know it, her history had been somewhat rewritten by a certain amount of time travel, the effects of which no one outside of a certain supernatural few or those involved had noticed.

Those changes had left her in the envious state of a naturally redheaded Japanese woman. Her open, soulful and kind brown eyes would perhaps be more appreciated if the Japanese mania over blue-eyed redheads wasn't so entrenched, but she was able to wear colored contacts for her film career.

She was the number seven box office star in Japan, and had held onto a 'top ten' slot longer than most before her had careers. Part of that was her family refusing roles they felt would cheapen her or degrade the 'untouchable innocence' air that had allowed her to star in one flame-haired Ranko film after another.

Part of that was her sword expertise, coming through training which her father had not permitted her to withdraw from upon marrying. Her knowledge of how to accurately fight with a katana had delivered an extra layer of believability to her 'Legend of Ranko' stories that brought her into the realm of action adventure features, and put her on a first name basis with such personalities as Jackie Chan.

A much greater part of her longevity on the silver screen was that a personal tragedy had brought her terrible anguish, and once she had done mourning her on screen presence had a great deal of emotional depth that slightly younger actresses couldn't touch, so they'd so far been unable to displace her.

All of Japan knew the story of how Nodoka's son had been stolen from her mansion in the dead of night by a wandering martial artist. Her husband, another popular actor she'd met and married during a production of Ranko and Hideki, had confronted the kidnapper and been killed during his escape.

Every so often a new reward got posted for that child's return, but with nothing more than a handful of baby pictures and DNA tests to screen out the fakes, they didn't have much to go on. The only clues they had were the fact that all the liquor on the estate had also vanished, and that all of her underwear had simultaneously gone missing.

But that last was hardly a point to go on. Like most stars, items reputing to be used or owned by the actress were routinely sold among fans, and personal apparel topped the list for prices. So whoever had stolen the child probably also took those for sale.

Their only guess as to why no ransom had been posted, nor the child returned after repeated offers of a pardon (limited time only, and those offers had expired), as well as a generous reward just for the child's safe return, were that some psycho had taken the child for the same reason items reputing to be her underwear sold - delirious fans wanting to own something of hers.

The other possibilities never got mentioned around Nodoka - that the kidnapper's plans had somehow gone foul and the child was injured or destroyed, either during the attempt or after, and so could not be returned. That could also explain why no ransom had been asked, or pardon accepted. The kidnappers would not desire to be forgiven for an abduction only to get charged with murder.

Speculation had been raging for years, and plots guessed got so convoluted that a handful of popular mystery novels had been written using those as material. Nodoka even got a share of those royalties.

What no one expected was a drunken old master who'd found any old boy during a routine panty raid and taken him for his unmarried disciple to raise as an heir. Knocking the poor guy who'd confronted him out a three story window and into a greenhouse had never seriously been expected to kill him, and in fact Happosai didn't know that the man he'd hit that night had died.

But what did the guy expect, putting up a brave front like that when he couldn't take a hit? Pretend to be a martial artist, and get treated like one, that's what he'd say.

Genma, on receiving a boy, had to pretend to be married to his old friend Soun who otherwise might have displayed a shred of moral character and got reluctant about engaging his daughter to a kidnap victim, so the bald man wound up fabricating a story remarkably similar to an unaltered timeline, except one without all of those times Nodoka had stopped over at the Tendo place to see her son and husband.

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Genma had just returned from inside the Red Hot Tea House, eyes bulging with horror that anything could be so ugly as to make HIM look pretty by comparison (though, naturally, his internal dialog did not say it in those words).

Even the dreaded Master wouldn't find THOSE prostitutes attractive!

As he was just about to flee out of those mountains at top speed, captured scroll with the unsealing technique on it held firmly in one hand, his way out was blocked by a samurai, of all things.

Seijuro stood on his path, subtle readiness in his stance, but beyond that Genma couldn't read it. Being who he was, Genma ignored the man and planned to mindlessly rush past, perhaps using the guy's face as a springboard.

As he rushed, intending to try this, however, the disciple of Happosai felt that oddly familiar (by now) sensation of having all of his limbs fly away from him, and he fell, sprayed out over a wide area, in a mangled mess on the dirt path.

The massively muscled man who normally had quite a kind face stepped to stand over the limbless head and torso lying on the bare ground.

"Genma Saotome. I Will Not Break My Word To My Son! And I promised him that the first day I should see you would be the day your head left your shoulders." A quick swipe of the blade followed, and that decapitation was performed. Seijuro picked up the still living severed head and addressed it, "I realize that, due to a potion, you cannot die from this injury, But I had to keep my promise."

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"No!" Rae shouted, dragging her date out of the movie theater towards the exit. "I'm not about to let you just say those sorts of things and get away with it! Now, either admit you were lying, trying to impress me, or we're going over to that studio right now! Nodoka is filming nearby, so don't think I won't do it."

Like most people, Rae referred to her favorite stars by their first names, as often as not without even thinking about it.

Ranma's only answer was to shrug. "I can only say what I know. That woman in the picture looked very much like my mom, and my mother's name is Nodoka. I don't see why you should get upset over this."

"As if you didn't know," Rae scowled to perhaps the one person in all of Japan who DIDN'T know about the abduction of Nodoka's son. Grabbing his hand, she dragged him away. "Come on, if you're going to be like this then you'll have to explain it to the gate guards of the film studio. I won't put up with jokes about people I care about!"

Meekly, the amazingly talented samurai allowed himself to be towed along behind. After one very furious bus trip, in which Rae fumed, they found themselves at the gates, where the irate girl was informing those guards. "This guy said he was Nodoka's son. I just want you to prove him wrong so I can get an honest story out of him."

She crossed her arms, frowned and began tapping her foot, not noticing the duck wearing coke-bottle-bottom glasses fly overhead and notice them.

Though perhaps not the usual way 'presumed sons' got returned in pathetic attempts to claim the reward money, the guards took it as a fairly standard affair anyway. "Right, okay 'son', spit on this dish. We've gotten expert at turning false claims away, and it's been years since we bothered Nodoka with any of them. You'll be on your way in ten minutes, and then your girlfriend can tear your ear off."

The other guard scowled at Ranma. "Kids like you make me sick! How can you keep toying with the feelings of a famous actress like this?"

"But..?" Ranma could see neither the two gate guards, nor Rae, were listening to him so he just spat in the petri dish. One of the guards took it inside, and they waited...

...and waited...

... and waited.

Finally, those guards came out of the shack and asked for another sample. Half an hour later they came out and wordlessly led Ranma and his date inside, where he was put in a small hospital room that served both as a set for scenes, and as a clinic for the staff. A doctor there had Ranma take his shoes off and scanned prints of both his feet and hands to compare against those recorded for the star's kidnapped son, checked for a few identifying marks in other areas, took a blood sample (which caused Ranma to sweat profusely, but to his surprise the tiny pinprick did not disrupt his present dream-clone) and, after puzzling over these results and consulting with a few fellow doctors, they reached a consensus...

... and sent for Nodoka.

Rae's eyes were now round, having grown wider and wider in ever increasing shock as one test after another failed to disprove what she'd felt was a ludicrous claim. And, by the time they'd sent for the famous actress, the bold shrine maiden was actually feeling acutely humbled, and strangely honored. Here she was on the site to see when one of the more famous tragedies of Japan's popular culture might be about to get resolved.

On another part of the lot, going into a sound stage currently set up for her latest movie, the gopher (go-for, a stage job) whispered to the director, who sent him back for confirmation and was replaced by one of the doctors to review the actual information. This time the director listened, and filming got called to a halt. Then a procession led by the doctor and followed up by the director and producer and a few other hefties who'd been briefed on what was happening approached the star's dressing room where Nodoka had just gone to remove her makeup.

She was still in costume as the troupe came to her door and knocked. She answered and staring out on all of those serious faces might have felt she were being fired for all of their grimness.

In truth, no one among them knew quite what to think. They were used to fakes and frauds coming to try and claim the reward money, but all of the tests they used to turn those away had failed to disprove this boy's claim. None of them could be sure if they were going to disappoint the actress again and possibly ruin her career for grief this time...

... but, on the other side of things, they knew she did have a son once, and it was possible that he was still out there, and just vaguely possible that he might come by. And, well, all of the ways used to detect a fake had yet to disprove this guy.

There were those, many in fact, who'd happily have poked and prodded and tested for a good dozen weeks or more. But the fact of the matter was, their star had requested to be notified if anyone should get this far through the claimant process.

So far no one ever had... until today.

They weren't sure how the results of so many tests could be faked. In fact many of them would like to make a movie about someone who tried, because the difficulty of fooling so many and varied tests was epic in scale, and would probably involve getting access to critical machines, and so could result in an excellent spy thriller.

The very reason they'd sprung for a specialized DNA test machine for the guards to use was so they could absolutely turn away all of the charlatans before they even got in the front door.

And it had worked, so far.

"Nodoka," a star who'd been summoned from another set and briefed to bear the news, as he was one of her oldest friends, spoke tenderly. "A boy came to the gates today. So far he's passed all of the tests. Now, we'd like to double-check everything, reset the equipment and retest, make sure nothing has been faked. But at least by what we've seen so far..." the man was used to delivering emotional lines, so his acting training bore him up through a startling, and personally significant, admission.

"He just might be your son."

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"I feel a little guilty, not having Ranma around so he can share," Ukyo commented, looking down a touch shamefully on a scene she'd imagined for years. Still, it made her feel so happy inside!

"You must learn not to limit today's happiness for yesterday's sorrow or tomorrow's perils," Seijuro told her, roasting marshmallows over the fire. "Besides, I fully intend to do this again sometime soon. Perhaps fairly often."

Genma, who's many bits were strapped to a metal frame over the fire and gagged, sweated as his flesh was roasted by near continual flames at close range to those coals, but otherwise had no comment.

In a nearby pile with his clothes was his pack, and a scroll with the unsealing technique on it.

"Actually, I'm glad we're saving the best for later," smiled Ukyo, pouring another layer of boiling tar over Genma's bald chest, and soon the flames were roaring up around and over his body once again.

Nodding sagely, Seijuro agreed, "Yes. It would not be fair to my son for him not to be present when we tie up this thief in fish sausage and throw him into a pit of starving cats."

"Actually, do you mind if we make a stop on the way home?" Ukyo asked brightly, as an idea occurred to her.

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In the horrid center of the Negaverse, another Dark General was making his plea for permission to act upon his plan.

"Jedite failed because he tried to collect energy from too many humans at once. I can collect more energy from one single person than Jedite was able to collect from a hundred. The human race is ruled by the movement of the stars throughout the heavens, and each person is ruled by a unique and special rhythm that is theirs alone. Everyone has a moment in their lives when their energy rises to its very highest point."

Queen Beryl considered him through half-lidded eyes, after allowing Zoicite to mock her current supplicant. "Very well, Nephlite. You may proceed."

Deep in Juuban, a high forested hill merely phased into existence, the magical force of its creation altering the plane upon which it appeared, displacing nothing as it brought with it the space on which it stood and merely stretched the surrounding reality to accommodate it - a trick that, if humans could learn it, would alter real estate prices forever.

Nephlite stood before his personal star map, gathering his energies for divination.

"Jedite was a fool, using wasteful and indiscriminate methods. I can draw more energy from a single person who reaches their energy peak than he could from crowds."

Calling upon the constellations of Sagittarius (the Archer) and Orpheus (the Musician) to guide him to a human who was about to reach their energy peak, he saw in his divination a picture of a young Chinese man in a white robe just emerging from the male side of a public bath, a determined expression on his face.

"This is the person selected by the stars. Mousse, your energy will be mine!"

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Cologne was having a happy day.

There were comparatively few Amazons whose names had been recorded as having made great additions to the knowledge of the tribe. Oh, she'd tried, like most, in her youth to excel and be different and epic enough to make a difference, but it was an uphill battle. With so many and so grand achievements done before, the bar was quite high to pass over those to score even a fractionally higher mark.

As maturity had come upon her, she'd become happy to have been among the best of her generation, which was a significant enough achievement on its own.

That was about to change.

As the three-hundred-year-old matriarch gazed into the mirror at her newly restored sixteen-year-old body, and the beauty that came with it, she felt that this discovery was going to be one of those achievements that made an individual amazon's name live forever among the tribes.

And, if these mushrooms worked the way she thought, she'd be around to see it.

Of course, as she well knew, there was little point in living empty, lonely years of life. The reason she'd come here to help her great-granddaughter was to maintain a relationship with her, as close contacts with other people were, as near as the Amazons had been able to determine, the whole purpose of life to begin with.

People certainly got miserable enough to seek death without them. And if they didn't die, they certainly got bitter enough that those around them wished them dead. Besides, kids these days grew so fast, you turn your back on them and they've married and had kids of their own in what seemed like minutes - like had happened with Shampoo's mother.

No, if she was going to live another three hundred years, it wasn't going to be alone. And as the mother and father and brothers and sisters that had seen her off to such a good start so long ago were now long gone themselves, she really had to look into starting another family to replace her first.

Luckily, she had just the thing.

Ranma had defeated her in combat. Due to the tremendous age difference, she'd not quite pressed him for marriage, but that was a close thing. She'd almost gone ahead and done it anyway, as he was such a marvelous catch. Well, no time like the present. She had a husband to catch and a family to start.

Being generous never hurt, so she'd graciously allow Shampoo to share. Amazons could share husbands when circumstances required. And in the case of Son-In...

No.

In the case of her Airen, there was no doubting that he was good enough of a find to require as many strong ties to their village as possible. A couple of Amazon brides would be an excellent place to start with that.

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The date with Amy was going very pleasantly.

They had stopped by a bookshop, and a deli, and armed thus with books and sandwiches the couple had retired to a park to eat and read.

Amy, to his delight, had turned out to be one of those who knew how to speed read and had shown him how. Naturally, being able to master just about any technique in short order, Ranma had not only picked those tricks up, but the memory improvement ones that followed after.

Thus armed with the tools to be an excellent student, the duo had sat down with a stack of historical references on the late Tokugawa regime and early Meiji era, stopping in between reading each books to share their insights and discuss what they knew.

For Amy, that made this date close to a study session, and she never felt upset at those. For Ranma, he was picking up a vital perspective on something he'd lived through a part of. Having your feet on the ground gives one viewpoint, while a big picture is another. By combining the detailed, close up perspective with the overall, wide angle summary, the duo were learning more about the period than either view alone could've given.

It was also proving amazingly interesting to both of them, and they were rapidly learning to enjoy each other's company.

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Back at the Mirror Mansion, two copies of Ranma were hanging out. One was all dressed and ready for a date with Ukyo - if she ever showed up. The other was dressed in his usual, or rather, his former Chinese silks and simply relaxing.

As the manor had alot of books, the two of them passed most of their time reading. One of those books was on castle design, using historical examples of both western and eastern types. Another was comparative combat styles.

Hey! Just because he had a chance to read and catch up on his book learning didn't mean that he'd suddenly acquired a different set of interests!

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Mousse was startled as, on his way from the bathhouse to where Ranma was, he nearly got run over by an expensive sports car. During the near-accident, while he was in the act of recoiling against the near miss, Mousse's glasses were tugged from the top of his head by an invisible and unnoticed pull of magic, to land beneath a wheel of the low-slung, red car, which then pulled to a stop by the curb.

The Dark General got out in the guise of a wealthy young businessman.

Mousse was already reaching for his glasses so he could see this new face, when his fingers came up empty.

'Maxfield Stanton' was already bending low to stand, with the ruined pair of lenses and their twisted frames in his hand.

"Hmm, how lucky for you I'm an optometrist. These are ruined. But I've got a pair in my trunk that should fit your prescription, and frame your eyes better, too."

Before the confused martial artist could say a word, Nephlite was already bending over the open trunk of his car, rummaging around for just a second before he stood holding a pair of gold plated, wire-rimmed, glasses...

... that just happened to have a Dark Mark upon them.

Without asking for permission, the disguised villain put the new frames over Mousse's face, fitting them on carefully before giving him a mirror to look in. "Well, how do they fit?"

The nearly-blind man from the Amazon tribes stared about in wonder. He'd never seen this good before! And his face! Looking in the mirror it was obvious that he could wear these new glasses without hiding his pretty eyes, which were his best feature!

"Thanks!" Mousse shook the man's hand enthusiastically. "But I've got to go. There's a man I've got to fight."

Nephlite stood grinning as the nearly blind man ran away, really seeing the world for the first time. Oh yes, his energy would peak soon!

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"Ranma! Why are we going?!?" Rae was the one being dragged along this time, and the puller was her boyfriend, who stopped for a moment to explain.

"Think! I'm not truly myself just now. I told you at the start of our date that I was just a mirror clone. Frankly, I'm amazed that I didn't poof into nothing when they pricked my finger to test my blood type. What would happen if my mother came in and gave me a hug just a wee bit too hard and I poofed into nothing in her arms?"

The shrine maiden's face reflected her horror as she thought about how that would hurt the woman, who'd probably conclude the whole thing was just a cruel trick. "That could be bad."

"So that's why we're leaving," the young man continued to pull.

"But wait! Ranma! At least leave her a note!" Rae dug in her pretty heels.

He paused. "And what would it say?"

The unpowered Sailor Mars thought for a moment, trying and discarding ideas. Had an appointment? What appointment could be more important than this meeting? Family emergency? How ridiculous would that sound to his own mother? Any school she knew of would fall all over themselves to reschedule anything they could if doing so meant that the famous actress could meet her son once again. He got sick? How odd would that sound? They were just walking out of a clinic!

The shrine maiden gave a small shrug. "I can't think of anything. But we still have to tell her something!"

Just then the wall of windows they were walking near burst apart in a spray of glass as a horde of chains tipped with knives flew through it.

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Author's Notes:

I love the fan community. I really adore you guys. The rush of help to point me toward my beloved anime was amazing and came in a very welcome flood. I couldn't have asked for better help from my best friends.

Thank you.

The reference to Gettysburg was tongue-in-cheek humor. I wasn't making a mistake in ignorance, you should know me better than that by now. No, I was mocking high school history students by introducing an obvious (and pretty ridiculous) error in my narration of Nabiki's internal dialog. There were others.

We've got high school and college students who can't name what ocean they live next to. That sort of thing is just too easily mocked to be left alone!

So if you see something like that, look for the humor. That's probably what it's there for.


	8. Chapter 8

Ruroni Ranko  
Chapter Seven

by Skysaber  
aka Jared Ornstead

During the mushroom incident events diverge from normal and enemies try to take advantage of our pigtailed hero. Unfortunately for them, attempts to get rid of him often go disastrously wrong.

When the glass flew apart Ranma was already sprinting, with Rae held protectively in his arms, to a safer location. The shards of glass flying past were individually enough to destroy his present dream body, so he was forced to block with his sword held in one hand while he cradled his date with the other as he sprinted to safety.

Luckily, he had learned long ago to knock out an entire hive of bees without getting stung. The difficulty here was similar; higher in that he was using only one hand, not two, and lower in that bees dodged, changed course, and flitted about while trying to reach you and shards of glass did not.

However, the enraged martial artist following them was a different story.

Realizing that his attacker was serious was a bit of a stretch for the young samurai. The types of death-duel he'd fought were silent matters of nearly invisible fast strokes and constant pressing for advantage.

Stopping to gloat was not on the agenda, nor was posing with a half dozen swords coming out each sleeve so your opponent could see that you've mastered the 'feathers of wings' resemblance and guess that you've got a bird-based fighting style, and thus reason that you've got bird-motion based attacks featuring sweeps and jabs.

Hey, it HAD been awhile since he'd last fought Mousse.

However, Ranma had ALSO sword an oath - or rather, his father Seijuro had sworn that as long as they were courting him, the Sailor Scouts would have the swords of the Hiten Mitsurugi for their protection.

Thus, they WOULD!

That was not negotiable, debatable or subject to sudden withdrawal. It simply would be fulfilled, there was no doubt of that. Failure was, to use a cliche, not an option. But for a samurai, like Ranma, failure was also an impossibility. He would either succeed or die trying, which was not any form of failure to abide by his code.

Ranma would not ever break his oaths. No, not even the ones Seijuro made on his name. And right now this crazed bird-guy was attacking, declaring lethal intent both by his words and use of edged blades.

Rae was therefore in danger.

Therefore, she would be defended, to the death if necessary. His own if required.

Actually, a quick death of this attacker was preferable, as Ranma realized that his clone body could not take a hit. Even a hard block was probably beyond his current ability. Therefore, he decided to end this swiftly, depositing the pretty Sailor of Fire off in a side corridor and reversing course to suddenly assault their attacker.

"Hiten Mitsurugi style: Dragon Hammer Strike!!"

The godlike speed of Hiten Mitsurugi was enough to land a solid blow on nearly anyone, but as it turned out, the demonically empowered Mousse was one of those rare exceptions. A fan of swords blocked the attack that really ought to have split the nearly blind man's skull in twain, and the dark magic powered Amazon male replied in turn with a flurry of spiked maces on chains that shot out into Ranma's stomach and blew the dream body backwards to smash into a wall and vanish in a 'poof' of momentary refractive glare.

Across Nerima and Juuban, six other dream bodies of Ranma looked up, in the direction of the unexpected fight. Making a quick judgment call, the four with other dates gave those girls notice of what was happening and went on their guard to protect them. The other two, the ones from the Mirror Mansion, dropped what they were doing and began to race that way at once.

One of them got splashed by the ladle lady on their way out of Nerima.

The dream clone with Amy, being the one closest to the fight, got up and performed a small number of hand seals. "Summoning The Beast Within! NekoKen!"

Right there in the middle of the park, a huge feline composed entirely of blue lightning appeared on the smooth green lawn and roared. That Ranma instantly gave it orders, "Go and defend Rae Hino, at once!"

And the lightning cat raced off. But being somewhat contrary (as cats often are) it gave itself silent permission to make a small stop along the way there.

"We've got to go help them!" Amy insisted as the cat launched itself off to race toward that studio.

Her copy of Ranma nodded. "I must inform you that, as much as I would like to, I may not be able to defend you. I cannot take any damage or I'll vanish."

"But Rae is in danger!" the bluenette insisted.

"Then we shall go." And he went with the girl to guard her as she ducked into a private space and transformed.

To no one's surprise, the declaration from Amy was repeated almost word for word with Serena, and soon two Sailor Scouts and their escorts were heading toward that studio.

Other dates were also informed, as a precautionary measure, and they had their own reactions to this bit of news.

OoOoO

Akane Tendo was not a happy girl.

While her older sister Kasumi was hobnobbing with powerful business tycoons and getting treated to rare delicacies of strange and expensive food dishes while multimillionaires surrounded her with appreciative glances, Tatewaki had turned his eyes off of Akane for a moment and his guards had thrown her out for making a disturbance.

She hadn't known there was a pig pen anywhere near the Kuno estate.

Hauling herself out from where she'd landed face-first into the muck and mire, clothes filthy beyond description and the smell assaulting her nostrils, she caught sight (using watery eyes) of a traditional bathhouse and made right for it, just as the stuff got into her wounds and made her lose all sense of reason in her haste to get washed...

Somehow forgetting completely that she'd left her purse, with all of her money and ID, back at the house.

OoOoO

Darien Shields unlocked and opened the door to his lonely apartment. Ever since that accident where he and his family had been driving along, skidded off the side of a slick road and drove into that pit of starving cats left behind by an insane martial artist who'd just gotten done torturing his son there, he'd lived the life of an orphan.

In some ways he was lucky not to wind up in an animal hospital. But when he'd woken up after getting badly mauled in the same pit of cats where his parents had gotten chewed to death, he'd at least locked down the animal behavior behind a sheltering wall of amnesia.

It would be nice to recall who his parents were, but it was nicer still not to require a scratching post and a flea collar.

So completely were his memories of that day buried that he wasn't even particularly frightened by cats anymore. What residual phobia remained had vanished under careful psychiatric treatment. And for that, he counted himself lucky.

Then, stepping into his room, a primal fear caught hold of him by the neck and lifted his hackles. Turning, horror movie slowly, toward the window he caught sight of his fear, a glowing cat composed of solid lightning simply radiating the essence of feline, and the man hauled back his head and yowled. "MeEOooOooOW!!"

Now standing on all fours, Neko-Darien hissed at the intruder, "Mrrr! Fft! Fft!"

Ranma's lightning neko bounded into the room and subdued the rival feline, trapping its face under a paw. Then, after explaining that IT was Alpha Male, allowed the other up, after informing the subservient creature that it would be following to help defend the pride's queens against a threat.

OoOoO

One of Jedite's earlier schemes was a "You too can be famous" scam for draining energy from an entire stadium of well-wishers, and a packed throng of would-be famous people, all of whom were driving themselves to their limits trying to get ahold of the major superstar contract that was offered to the lucky pair of winners.

Actually, many things had been adjusted just a bit by the cascading ripples through time, and, due to prevailing circumstances, everything had been going splendidly for the Dark General. There had been such a rush of eager non-redheaded Japanese girls hoping for a studio contract that the project had grown beyond Jedite's original intentions. So more and more studio people had gotten involved and eventually blown the whole thing up to monstrous proportions, including a televised broadcast and a panel of professional judges to preside over the event.

The potential energy gains had been vast. Had it succeeded, the Negaverse would have had all of the energy they needed for quite some time to come. So, in response to that, established remnants of the Silver Moon warning system had momentarily called Sailor V back from England to deal with the threat personally, and Artemis had swiftly taught her a Sailor Teleport just so she could achieve that without having to go through the delay of flight or the awkwardness of trying to beg her parents for money to buy tickets.

The ever-plucky Sailor V had arrived in time to run into Serena on a sidewalk, just as preliminary registrations started. The moon cat Luna had sensed odd vibes from the other blonde girl (who was in costume, but under the effects of a disguise pen), and so sent her own charge into an alley to transform and disguise to follow her - which had them both picking up odd vibes from the other.

Naturally, this led to the extremely odd occurrence of Sailor V, under disguise to be a normal girl so she could pass as one contest hopeful among dozens, being followed by Sailor Moon, who just happened to be in disguise to be a normal girl passing herself off as a contest hopeful, both hunting youma but unaware of the special nature of the other Sailor near her, and wondering if that other Sailor wasn't a disguised youma, just as the true enemy who was running the contest announced that all entries had to be in teams of two.

The two stalking Scouts had stared at each other, caught alone together while all others around them immediately paired up. Like twins, they rubbed their heads in identical motions as they wondered how to get out of this, but both bowed to the inevitability of their alibis as contest hopefuls, and as soon as that they were a team, each one suspecting the other of being the youma the whole time.

Had Artemis come along he would have put an end to the Luna inspired nonsense and those two girls doubtless would have made contact and joined one another, finding the true threat much earlier and connecting as fellow Scouts, but that much more sensible white cat had stayed behind in England, fearing that his charge might not have enough energy to make that teleport while carrying him.

So those girls went through the motions of entering and trying to win the contest, each one trying to figure out what the other was up to while they got the preliminaries out of the way.

Since Jedite was in charge, nobody got eliminated in the first stage trials as he was trying to build up as big a crowd of contestants as he could, so everybody advanced to the final round and at the end of that day two Sailor Scouts went to their respective homes, each churning up inside with wonderings over what the other was up to.

A few days had been spent in tense frustration as they'd tried to find out, each one spying on the other in a rather comical fashion. Yet in the end, both of their hunts proved fruitless as they weren't investigating the actual source of the evil, only each other. And due to the cosmic coincidences involved, all they did was find out how much alike they were - and assumed that was deliberate imitation because they'd each caught the other spying from time to time, and so consequently assumed some nefarious design behind it.

In that way, the final day of the contest and the springing of Jedite's trap arrived.

Disguise pens being disguise pens and arising as they do from the super-powerful Silver Moon Kingdom they actually impart some of the needed skills to fill out the roles their disguises were to play. So, on the day of the actual contest when both girls (in their different homes) had held up their pens and shouted out, "Moon Disguise Power! Change me into an up-and-coming superstar!" they got more than fancy clothes and good makeup.

And so, once they'd arrived on stage, they'd both danced and sang flawlessly with effortless movements, economy of motion, and a beautiful symmetry to all of their actions while they performed, each one going through her part of a marvelous paired act while quietly waiting for the other girl to monster out and start gobbling energy.

Naturally, it was the show host who turned out to be the youma, monstering out after having drained most of the participants and all of the studio crew and audience.

Being Sailors, both girls were astonishingly resistant to energy drain compared to normal people. So they were the only ones still on stage by the time the youma made her switch from innocent show host to deranged killing machine, catching both of her remaining guests by surprise as, until that point, they'd still been deeply suspecting each other.

Luckily, both girls had already transformed to full Sailor costumes before coming to the studio, wearing those under their disguise illusions, each knowing there'd be a battle and wanting to be ready for it on a moment's notice.

Sailor V, being a veteran of these attacks for some time now, held onto her wits and gave the monster a severe pounding right off the bat. Her display of courage helped with Sailor Moon's sudden bout of shock, getting her to rally very quickly.

Twin attacks followed, and youma dust was the end result.

Coincidentally, cameras following automatic programs caught all of this action even after their crews had succumbed to energy draining attacks.

Now this could have gone any number of ways, most of them bad.

What was oddly fortunate for the two young blonde girls was that all this time they hadn't thought to drop their disguises during the battle. Now a strange thing about how the Sailor costume magic worked was if the Scouts didn't want to be recognized, they wouldn't be recognized, even if they had to beat up a monster in front of a nationwide broadcast, as they had that day. And, this time working to compliment that was a core principle behind how those disguise pens worked, namely, whatever you wanted to be disguised as, you WOULD be recognized as by whoever viewed you, until that disguise was dropped.

Normally those features didn't work well together, and so the more powerful magic of the Sailor costume took precedence, overriding the disguise in times of battle. But both of those girls deeply wanted to be stars, and so they got recognized - just not as Sailor Scouts. Their costumes correctly read their intentions NOT to be seen as Scouts in that case and so in spite of using Sailor Scout magic attacks on live TV, they didn't get recognized as magical girls, but instead as the ordinary, blonde, teenaged girls they'd gone disguised as, namely themselves as up-and-coming superstars.

Of course, it probably helped that Serena had panicked after the fight was over and run to hide in the girl's restroom while she got over her initial shock at having done a youma battle on nationwide TV. She did her de-transformation there, while Mina did exactly the same thing in a different girl's bathroom on the other side of the studio. So none of their transformations were actually done before witnesses.

Both blondes had sighed with relief and gotten ready to go home. But so large had this project grown that its momentum continued on, even after the Dark General dropped the scheme after his youma was defeated, with a bunch of embarrassed judges getting up off the floor to proclaim that peculiar pair of young girls were the winners due not only to their having the best act by far, and continuing on even after the other contestants dropped, but from being able to shift their act seamlessly over to deal with an intrusion onto the set by a surprise monster, obviously sent down from special effects to spice up the occasion.

Several of the contestants wanted to force a redo of the auditions because of what they thought was a building fault leading to a gas leak that made everyone sleepy, but the producers insisted that the triple whammy of those two blondes had all of the others beat in spite of any technical difficulties the show might have experienced.

So the girls got contracts as major teen superstars, just like Jedite had promised. The general had made those promises with no intention of carrying them out. But this time he had made them using so many studio resources and such a highly publicized campaign that the parent company couldn't back out of it.

Almost as a counterbalance to this amazing stroke of luck for both of them, neither girl had recognized that their partner was a Sailor Scout in all of that confusion. And so Sailor V, who was still getting resettled, having only just now to her homeland, and was being kept frantically busy most of the time anyway, hadn't joined the rest of the Sailor team as yet.

In fact, both Scouts were so embarrassed over having suspected the other of being the youma that whole time that they'd suffered some emotional backlash from it, dropping the other off of her own threat radar completely and no longer suspecting her of anything. An amusing irony that was actually preventing them from linking up as Sailor Scouts.

Mina's parents were overjoyed that their precious daughter got selected to be a star by a major studio in Japan, though they were a little confused as to how that had happened when they were in England, and the girl had to work her tail off to get the Dark Syndicate finished off early so she could return to Japan to start her career.

Serena's parents were dumbstruck. Even after watching the videos of the show they could hardly believe that their often inept and bumbling daughter had performed so well as to have gotten an actual teen idol star contract, and at a major studio as well. Of course, they responded by instantly signing her up for all sorts of lessons, including everything a young teen idol needs from dancing and singing to other forms of music, and particularly acting.

Wanting their little girl to live as normal a life as possible, Serena's parents also hadn't withdrawn her from ordinary school as yet, in spite of pressure by the studio to do so and convert her schooling over to full-time tutoring, which did a better job in less time and also freed up her schedule tremendously, adding flexibility to provide room for her growing film and music career.

For right now the Tsukino family had determined to make life as normal for Serena as possible, and were even insisting on free time to spend with her friends. What that meant for the studio angle was that far more had to be crammed into less time, and that was giving the poor girl a significant burden trying to keep up with it.

It was all such a heavy load Luna was forced to relent and make available some Silver Moon study aids or her young charge would've been unable to carry on in her Sailor duties. She even went so far as to do a few small adjustments via her Luna Mind Meld to reawaken some of Serena's talents from the Silver Moon Kingdom. After all, every one of the Scouts back then had been accomplished singers, musicians and dancers. It was how the Royal Court spent much of their time, after all, and as planetary princesses they'd all been trained up to a high degree of accomplishment in those arts so as to not embarrass their homes with their performance at the palace of the Queen.

Thanks to that, Serena began to excel at her acting and musical career to a degree that astonished everybody, including Luna (perhaps especially Luna. Her parents had had faith that great potential lay deeply buried in their daughter, and had tried to awaken it from time to time, while the black cat openly doubted that potential's existence fairly often). Her schedule as a brand new superstar was still hectic, but thanks to the 'friends time' her parents insisted on, she was even able to make room in her day for a significant sized date with a potential future husband.

Girls at her school were equal parts jealousy and admiration.

The five million dollar paycheck for her first project would have been a source of considerably more envy, had not both girls' sets of parents immediately locked the money in accounts for their daughter's futures.

Serena was so bummed that in spite of being a millionaire she was still dependent on her allowance to play video games. But she was also grateful that she had the job in the first place, and had given profuse thanks to her cat for her help on getting the skills to keep up with that.

While Luna had to have her tail tweaked to provide that extra help, Artemis gave Mina hers as a reward for finishing off the Dark Syndicate so quickly, and between those study aids and the white cat's own rusty but still serviceable attempt at mind meld awakening her old life's musical skills, the ever-plucky teen wasn't lagging far behind Serena. She was, in fact, working twice as hard and catching up rapidly. It helped that her parents had agreed to the private tutoring and so she had more time to spend on it. In fact, she'd been working so hard that she'd taken the previous day off due to overwork and had slept through both Jedite's message and the battle that followed, her overworked cat resting right beside her. But, her day of rest over, it was back to the studio grind.

So, that was how superstar teen idol Mina Aino happened to be walking down the corridor when a demonic Mousse attacked.

OoOoO

Sailor Mars was known for her fiery temper, also for her warmth toward those she loved, and both of those were being triggered right now.

If your favorite star, a celebrity, had just shown up in your life one day and asked you out to dinner you'd have a reaction. Now, Ranma strictly speaking wasn't a star, but his mom was and the tale of his kidnapping was known to practically everyone in Japan, and that alone made him a celebrity of sorts - but he was also, by all that she'd seen so far, almost certainly the son of her favorite actress.

She was growing warm to him already, even before he'd gone and saved her from a surprise youma attack. He'd no sooner dropped her in a corridor than she'd found a girls restroom and popped in, with a fully transformed Sailor Mars darting out only a moment later, already in a fine temper at this intrusion into a date that was already earning seven pages in her journal - at least!

Sadly, she wasn't in time to do a simultaneous strike with Ranma. The Godlike speed of the Hiten Mitsurugi just gave her no chance to go and do a costume change and still have enough time to couple her attack to his strike, though if she had there was a decent chance that the demonically possessed boy could not have blocked both of them at once.

The results of that could well be imagined. One attack or the other would almost certainly have dropped the blind Amazon in his tracks.

Needless to say, the only companion Ranma had had for his fights over the past eleven years or so was his adopted father, who regularly matched his speed those times he did not surpass it. Seijuro was almost a force of nature in his attacks, and so coordinating along with him had by and large proved unnecessary. Each man took his opponents down swiftly and completely, and any exceptions could be adapted to on the fly.

Having taken only one blow before evaporating into mirror glare, Ranma hadn't had time to revise this strategy based on his enemy's observed speed or tactics. So Mars was left nearly alone to face this foe, who'd charged her before she could even get ready her entry speech about how ticked off she was at him ruining her date.

She'd just rounded the corner to do so when he was, all of a sudden, charging at her in a fury of chains and blades, freezing her to the spot as she felt his killer intent. She saw her life flash momentarily before her eyes when an orange beam of light smashed into his unprotected side and threw him down the hallway and out the far end's window.

"Meteor Beam!!" came the somewhat belated cry of a blonde girl in a sailor costume with a mask standing down the corridor from Mars. The girl quickly posed with a V over her eyes. "Code name: Sailor V! The soldier of justice, the sailor-suited beautiful soldier. I am Sailor Venus!"

Mars was about to respond, opening her mouth to identify herself when a chain lying unnoticed at her feet twitched into sudden life, lashed about her ankles and hauled her out of the building via the hole Mousse had recently been thrown through.

After being catapulted out the window, the lovely Sailor of Mars saw the possessed young man below her, waiting with his arms upraised to receive her on a forest of knives. Not about to be defeated without making her enemy pay of it first, she formed her fingers into a familiar sign and cried out, "Mars Fire Ignite!"

Mousse smirked, release the two dozen or so weapons he'd been holding in one hand to call forth an inch thick steel sewer lid, clasped in an oven mitt on that hand, his remaining weapons still poised to skewer the little sailor-suited girl.

Mars screwed her eyes shut, knowing that this was going to hurt and fearing she had no way to live through it when a mighty roar split the heavens and suddenly she was held in the mouth of a giant cat made entirely out of lightning, his jaws closed on the back of her sailor collar as he carried her away in a giant leap, his terrible claws having slashed apart the chains drawing her down onto the knives of the Amazon male.

Mousse, for his part, hadn't been nearly so well protected by his improvised shield as he had hoped. The Sailor strike had burned a hole through it instantly, carrying on with nearly undiminished force after having melted the sewer lid to white hot slag covering his left arm and causing the supposedly heat-proof oven mitt to combust with his hand still inside.

An ordinary man would have died twice over from such an attack. Even a seasoned martial artist, such as he was, could hardly have survived even the contact with the molten metal, much less the fiery attack that had caused that as merely secondary damage on its way to impact on the main body.

He should have been a torch. No, he should have been completely incinerated by that attack before he even had an opportunity to scream.

Instead, after the fireball had vanished, Mousse was left still alive and undamaged beyond what appeared to be minor burns over his body. The molten metal, which should have instantly cremated that body of his body it touched, was instead molding to his side, giving him a layer of flexible steel coating and protecting that half of his upper body. And he showed no apparent concern for what should have been causing him agony.

'MAJOR youma!' was the thought running through both Sailor's minds.

"Venus Crescent Beam, Smash!"

That blow of laser-light craters the ground, but Mousse was no longer on it, jumping high to divert his hostile attention to the source of this most recent attack.

"What are you doing?! Defend her!!" Mars shouted, once she'd noticed that the great lightning cat at her side was crouched and ready, snarling at their enemy, but not moving to help the embattled Venus.

"Mars Fire!" She shot off her own attempt to intercept the blade-user as he lunged toward Venus, who was escaping too slowly to do any good.

To her surprise that blast caught him unprepared and sent him crashing through the wall of the building, allowing Venus the time she'd needed to escape. Probably her ration of good luck got used up there, as the lightning cat still hadn't moved and was apparently ignoring her orders.

"Venus Crescent Beam!" that pretty sailor shouted as she just reached the ground, catching Mousse coming out of his hole, having anticipated that action.

The blind martial artist simply blurred, disappearing from out in front of the attack and reappearing by her side. Venus screamed as a large spiked mace, certainly weighing more than she did, crashed into her side at rocket-like velocity and sent her sailing, then rolling across the turf to wind up by the side of Mars.

" Help me, dang you! I can't keep throwing these forever!" the black haired Sailor shouted to the lightning cat as she brought her hands together once again, "Mars Fire!"

To her surprise and infinite relief, the lightning cat lunged forward, racing along under and slightly behind the spinning bolt of fire, using that to cover it's approach to target, where it lunged and assaulted the sometimes duck just as he was raising a large medieval tower shield to block this second blast of fire. The fiery attack once again melted that defense, sending another blob of molten metal to cover and protect his right side this time and not even stopping his furious charge.

However, the assault of the mystical feline appearing right in his belly was not welcome nor expected. Lightning claws caught and tore the martial artist, rending flesh and spraying blood around the courtyard as the seeming-tiger wrapped itself around the poor possessed boy and applied the deadly close combat damage of every pointy surface it had.  
Cats can maul and rend most ferociously with that kind of contact, and this one did.

"Hiten Mitsurugi style: Dragon Hammer Strike!!"

This time the blow from Ranma's sword split Mousse from top of the head down to mid-breastbone, opening up his brains and other internal organs to daylight, and came near to cleaving him in half.

To the horror of those looking on, Mousse continued to fight, leaping upwards and clear of both opponents, sending a rain of shuriken down on Ranma's clone and the lightning cat, and the spread of those several hundred missiles caught a wide enough area as to hit and disperse the samurai's nearly arrived dream body once more, while the nick that caught the cat was simply shrugged off.

The demon possessed martial artist paused at the top of his arc, standing in mid air to laugh as his flesh resealed and healed itself, completely closing up his wounds in a matter of seconds.

"Mercury Bubbles, Blast!!"

Fog instantly shrouded the area, through which the newly arrived Sailor Mercury and her allies could see just fine, but totally blocked the sight of any others within its area.

Coming to help Sailor Mars assist a newly conscious Venus to her feet, the pretty Sailor of Mercury apologized, "I'm sorry I'm so late. I came as quickly as I could."

"Ha!" the floating martial artist sent a rain of chains and blades down on their position, having listened closely for the noise. The three Scouts just barely dodged out of the way, Mercury almost getting clipped by a falling weight that had 'Ten Tons' clearly marked on the side.

"Don't speak or he'll know where to find us!" Sailor Mars shouted, wise enough to be already dodging out of the way of the next series of attacks. Using her sight to take a position sheltered behind a large, double-wide refrigerator, she continued, "He's listening for us. So when you speak, he knows where to attack!"

"Right," Sailor Mercury called back, nodding, then winced as a hail of small knives and other weapons patterned the area around her, clanging off the giant ten ton weight she was sheltered behind. She flinched noticeably when a particularly large safe bounced off of her shelter and then fell nearby.

Venus, crouching behind one of those giant, decorative stone carvings of a cat that had recently been used as a missile weapon to try and hit her, wisely held her comment.

With a maniacal gleam to his eyes behind a pair of now-glowing glasses, Mousse suddenly sprouted giant fans from each of his oversize sleeves and the gusts of wind he produced with a few powerful blows were enough to strip the protecting fog cloud away.

That revealed two Ranmas, newly arrived from Nerima (having traveled faster than some of those closer by, due to a fortuitous train passing by in the right direction - the fact that it had never stopped to pick them up was a bonus in their eyes). One, having been splashed by the ladle lady on their way out, was a girl. But both had a determination in their eyes that wouldn't stop at murder as they landed, then leapt off to attack in unison.

"Now Tensie!!" Nephlite shouted, safe on the sidelines, right before disappearing.

Black energy drained off in cloudy streamers from Mousse, who went from grinning and gloating with a demented leer over his eagerly anticipated defeat of Ranma at last (the other attacks and encounters having come to fast for even a moment to savor) to being reduced to a pathetic, unconscious shell and dropped like a sack of dead rats by a youma that emerged from his glowing glasses.

Mousse fell thirty feet with both of Ranma's male and female dream bodies were still in the air, and the creature that formed in his place was almost seven feet tall with stark white skin, large pointed fan ears, fangs, claws and glowing green eyes that had no pupils. Her body was coated with the same molten-metal armor than had formed around Mousse, and every part of her was studded with knives and swords and other blades, while large maces and devilishly spiked chains dangled from both hands.

A familiar pair of golden glasses rested on her face as she met the attack, oozing confidence as she faced the pair of approaching blurs.

OoOoO

Author's Notes:

I have never seen a story where Serena actually won that StarQuest thing Jedite ran and actually went on to get the contract and start a career as an idol. There probably is one, I merely have not seen it. But, not having seen or heard of one, I wanted to do it! Even if it could only be a fairly minor part in a much larger story like this one. And I didn't want to deprive Sailor V of living her lifelong dream either.

Also, Tuxedo Mask lost his parents to the same pit where Genma had been teaching his son the Cat Fist? And his amnesia was a side effect of that boy himself learning the technique? How often have you seen that done?

Sometimes this fic is almost too fun to work on. I love it!

Sorry for the delay on posting this. It was going to be out, oh, months ago now, but writing got briefly interrupted by a professional project, but as you can see I am back to this once more. And I'm happy to be doing it.


	9. Chapter 9

Ruroni Ranko  
Chapter Nine

by Skysaber  
aka Jared Ornstead

During the mushroom incident events diverge from normal and enemies try to take advantage of our pigtailed hero. Unfortunately for them, attempts to get rid of him often go disastrously wrong.

OoOoO

Nodoka was not a woman shy about rushing where she wanted to go when she thought it was important. Also, she was a star and thus remarkably free of studio restrictions when she wanted to go somewhere.

So she had crossed the lot from her filming location to the site of the clinic where her son had gotten reported remarkably quickly, trailing her friends and coworkers behind.

However, arriving outside of the building she paused on her way in, halting in the face of the rather remarkable act that was being played out in the grounds not normally used for filming.

She halted because she saw her son involved. It could only be her son, he was her own image, blended nicely with the traits of her late husband. He could be no one else, and beside him fought...

Nodoka felt faint, then a wave of shame crossed her mind in the wake of realizing that her first thought on seeing the flame-haired maiden fighting brilliantly beside her boy was a selfish one - that her own career of starring in Flame-Haired Ranko films was over.

Like all women whose living depended to a large extent on her looks, Nodoka had a keen sense of potential rivals. She had spent most of her adult life trying to fit herself to the mold of a certain near-mythical figure, and did it better than most. She knew that image, as part of her career she'd studied several paintings of the flame-haired legend, and knew well enough to know when the directors would start seeing a pretty new face replace her own on the silver screen. She was looking at that face right now. It didn't matter if the girl had all of the acting talent of an untrained monkey, between her obvious fighting style and perfect good looks (the EXACT combination of innocent and ravishing needed to play the role) it would not be long before there was another actress playing that part that Nodoka had done so well on. It didn't even matter if the girl wanted to act or not, the producers would eventually find a way to convince her. The stunning redhead was just that perfect for the role.

But that realization lasted only a moment, she ruthlessly squashed that thought down below her wonder at the sight of her boy performing an act like no other. After all, she'd had a long and very well paid career. Most of that money had gotten saved or put away into a suite of investments that were paying off quite nicely. It had been some time since she'd needed to work for a living, seeing as how she'd lived, while decently, still well below her prodigious income. It would be nice, in a way, to hand off that part to another and devote her time to getting to know her son.

Nodoka's breath caught in her throat as she witnessed Ranma perform a leaping acrobatic trick like no other she'd ever witnessed - in a life lived mostly around those who did with wires or stage props what couldn't be done by mere skill.

Perhaps it was time she moved on from acting to directing, and her son would need a manager to get his own career started. Snagging a nearby camera crew from another set, Nodoka barked orders and soon had them pointed at this awe-inspiring display of skill.

OoOoO

Meanwhile, not long before, nor that far away...

"Here we are at the world-famous Hideki Studios, where we are being privileged to see how some of your favorite films have been made, as well as achieve a startling glimpse at the workplace of Japan's favorite stars. Now we'll be going to..."

CRASH!!

A body came hurtling passed the reporter in a ferocious charge, ignoring her and her crew to perform in impossible leap up the side of a building and in through a window, his rushing attack led off by a volley of thrown chains against whatever was inside.

The reporter lady, her hair still blowing in his passage, turned in some amount of confusion to her cameraman, "Is this supposed to happen?" Behind her, in the background, the white robed figure posed in the window, his back to them as he postured with a dozen swords emerging from his billowing sleeves.

One of her support staff shrugged. "Well, this is the spot they told us to do our film spot at. This must be a promotional."

The reporter lady blinked, and then shrugged. "Well, then get a good shot of this, whatever it is." She turned on her profile so she was still in the feed while the camera got an unrestricted glimpse of the promotional fighter as he got flung backwards out of an upper-story window by what looked to be an orange laser.

Trailing chains, the white robed figure with glowing eyes flipped around in mid-air to land amidst a splatter of glass shards. He'd not even landed before his almost living chains pulled a young girl in a short skirt out of the building down toward a forest of knives that appeared from his sleeves.

The girl in the short red skirt shot him with a ball of fire, which the robed man took on a sewer lid which melted even as a five foot high, ten foot long tiger composed entirely out of lightning snatched the girl out of death's grasp, slashing apart those chains even as it saved her from falling upon the knives.

The reporter's mouth kept opening but she wasn't able to muster enough of her wits to say anything. Didn't they usually use graphic artists to pencil that sort of thing in after they were done filming?

Indeed, the molten metal molding to the side of the robed actor was the sort of effect they normally spent millions on.

A hefty exchange of lasers, lunges and fireballs followed, during which a chip of destroyed building flew passed and put a slight cut into the reporter's cheek, but all the reaction this merited was to have the lady touch it, then look about wondering where the safety staff was and why hadn't they put up some plastic fragment shields?

Oh, then she reconsidered. That would have ruined the surprise effect they were after, and they obviously wanted their unscripted reactions. Her only trouble there was, the scale and scope of the effects kept numbing her mind.

For example, she couldn't imagine how they got that lightning cat to actually claw apart that robed guy, spraying blood all over the place as it mauled him.

But then they had another actor leap in and cut the robed guy's head in half! In fact they didn't stop with the cranium and clove him almost in half, leaving the sword sticking out of the robed actor's heart!

It's got to be animatronics, the reported thought dazedly as that figure leapt up to stand in the air, his ought-to-be-fatal wounds already sealing themselves.

Now this is the first example of poor movie-making I've seen in this clip, the lady reporter thought as a sudden cloud of fog blanketed the stage floor. The audience really ought to be able to see the action so they can get involved.

Still, it is an interesting schtick, so long as it's used sparingly, she went on to muse, as from the outside perspective they were able to watch the floating animatronics guy throw projectile weapons of every description, including safes, stoves and refrigerators (and one, giant, ten ton weight to lead off) into the cloud every time those girls said anything.

When the floating guy used giant fans (to hide the wind generators off-set, she was sure) to blow away the concealing clouds of mist, she had to admit they hadn't overdone it with the effect.

In fact, it was rather charming as a way to reveal the two new arrivals. The one guy with the sword they'd seen before as he'd made an attack only to disappear again. But the girl...

The reporter's breath caught in her throat.

She was only here at Hideki Studios because out of all of the reporters at her office, she was the one most expert on all things related to their signature star - Flame Haired Ranko.

And if that wasn't her very image standing there beside the sword-wielding boy, she didn't know anything.

Smiling brightly, the reporter turned back to her camera, finding words at last. "Wow! What a way to reveal the studio's newest star! Obviously they're planning a big buildup for this, the new player of the studio's signature performer! Let's watch the action, shall we? And see if this actress has what it takes to play the legendary Flame Haired Ranko!"

OoOoO

"Ranma! Help us out!" Sailor Mars called completely unnecessarily, as the twin copies of the martial artist made an attack on the youma.

Tensie the youma had already discarded Mousse, as that vessel was drained and of no use to her anymore. Instead, she did what youma often do and based her attacks on the psychic template acquired while sucking out her host's energy.

That meant, in this case, that Tensie was a walking arsenal, and clad in steel to boot.

The two reflections of Ranma had lunged at her, their speed now easily eclipsing hers, and landed blows to both of her sides, each in vital spots. But the swords did not penetrate, neither could they be removed, sticking there in place before being absorbed and added to the youma's arsenal.

Or so they would have been, if Tensie hadn't blasted both martial artists back with an aura attack, smashing them up against walls and causing them, and their swords, to glitter out.

Streams of arrows began to impact on the creature, as Miukyo and her copy-Ranma barrage it from range, successfully hitting and hurting the creature enough so as to capture its entire attention. Suddenly the creature staggered, and both ninja and samurai noted that it was a moonstone tipped arrow that did the most damage, blowing a hole into its steel side larger than any of their clenched fists.

A hole that was also slow at closing, not regenerating anywhere near the rate of the other wounds that it had previously received.

Bingo! Both thought, one weakness has been identified. These creatures, or at least this one, don't like moonstone.

That would be the very first arrowtip used in the next fight against one of these, to see if that substance was a weakness general among all of this kind of demon.

The three Sailor Scouts present and on scene were still tuckered out, panting with the strain of their exertions. Both Venus and Mars had flung about multiple full-power attacks while Mercury had pushed herself to the limits to get here on time. Though this would have been a beautiful moment to finish the youma off, none of them had the energy to do it.

Making a decision, the remaining dream clones stopped, informed their charges of what they were doing, and each one struck itself in the face, disappearing.

Back in the Mirror Mansion, the original Ranma Saotome spilled out of the mirror as all of his clones simultaneously suicided, then raced as fast as he could toward a certain film studio (avoiding the ladle lady on his way out this time), pushing himself to the limits as he leaped and raced, running along the tops of moving trains to get himself there as fast as humanly possible.

OoOoO

The Kuonji clan headquarters was neither large nor grand. It was a fairly small and humble dwelling that could not have been compared favorably to the Tendo home. But then, if they had been a rich clan, either in influence or wealth, it would have been unlikely for them to offer their daughter in an engagement to a wandering martial artist's son, or with only a food cart for a dowry.

Then again, those who are rich in pride and strong in spirit do not need alot of wealthy trappings to take themselves or their honor very seriously.

Nevertheless, the Kuonji clan head's home was not far distant from a certain mountain where a noted monastery or infamous brothel lurked, which was what led to Ukyo's idea.

Ukyo'd decided to stop by on their way back to take care of a certain problem she had that was still outstanding. Needless to say, the clan were not expecting her to return at any particular time, however they hardly had any complaints when Ukyo entered in that day, carrying Genma's still-living yet severed head back to her clan and presenting it to her father getting full credit for a kill on the old, cheating bastard, and regaining much lost status in her family's eyes, a gain compounded when Seijuro vouched for her as having newly married the boy she was promised to - his adopted son.

The celebration was enormous and threatened to go on for days.

However, behind closed doors and in the privacy only willing ignorance can provide, some very delicate negotiations went on. Because, despite the Kuonji's great joy in Ukyo's magnificent success, it was not an unassailable victory.

It wasn't that her clan wasn't happy to receive her back and shout with joy over her triumph, but a strict and uncompromising view on affairs could still see things as complicated. So it was important to resolve their position on things so no questions ever arose.

Strictly speaking to get full credit for her vengeance and get her honor restored, Ukyo had to accomplish one of two things, either the deaths of both the guilty parties (Ranma and Genma Saotome), or her marriage to Ranma Saotome. She'd also have to present proof of whichever method she'd used once it was fully completed.

Well, Ranma Saotome no longer existed. He was Ranma Hiko now, so it could be interpreted, if you were of a mind to do so, that one of the guilty parties lived (Ranma), yet Ukyo had not married a Saotome.

It may seem that such a dangling thread was of no consequence, yet smaller issues than that had been blown out of all proportion to call a clan's honor into question before. So it was important to insulate yourself against those rumors ahead of time, just so any such attacks would be made to seem even more petty and insignificant than they already were.

The most uncompromising of all approaches would be to order the girl to kill Ranma. However, this was her family and they loved her. No one in the Kuonji clan was inclined to give her an impossible or distasteful command like killing her own husband. Besides, body language can say a great deal, and Seijuro's plainly stated that if they tried to make such a demand there wouldn't be a single Kuonji standing by that time the following day - and worse, Ukyo's mannerisms said that she'd be on his side of that fight. Nor was there a man woman or child in the Kuonji clan who doubted they could do it, either. The deadly auras of those two fighters were incredible, the likes of which had not been seen in Japan for ages.

So, however they wanted to conceal it with ornate and fanciful trappings, they did what custom in Japan demanded and bowed to those stronger than them. (Not, it must be said, that they did this unwillingly. Most minds were glad to call the entire honor debt fulfilled, and a marvelous success at that.)

No, the true villain of the smirch on their clan's honor now had his severed head on a plate in their living room (admittedly, rolling its eyes and trying to say things from time to time, which was more than a bit creepy). And their daughter had married the boy she had long ago been promised to, even if he had a different clan name now.

Every one of her family was willing to take this as a complete and perfect victory.

Seijuro and Ukyo both assured them that the change of clan was all for the better, and given what they knew of it before it disappeared from the histories, the Kuonji's had to agree. It was, or at least it had been long ago, a very prestigious name, for the short period before it vanished completely.

So, to insulate themselves against any further questions down the road, they set about establishing what protections they could against inquiry. One of the first of those was to place Genma's severed head into a tub of clear plastic, about bowling ball sized (it was, in fact, a mold used to create bowling balls) which hardened around and left him embedded in see-through material, trapped like a fly in amber.

They did this so he wouldn't be able to move around too much and give away the fact that his head was still alive.

Then an enterprising woodcarver used his bandsaw to cut the whole block, including head, in half right down the middle, so they could split it open and expose his brain (which was astonishingly small - perhaps atrophied through lack of use). It was in this condition they took the whole thing down to meet the county coroner, splitting open the block to show a perfect cross-section of Genma's head, then asked, "Is this man alive?"

The coroner looked at them as though they were crazy, but responded, "I don't see how he could be." And obligingly filled out the death certificate.

They then sent this grisly trophy on the rounds through their allied clans for them to witness what appeared to be iron-clad proof of the man's demise.

Plans were already in place for Ukyo to follow those same rounds next week along with Ranma and introduce him as, "This is my husband, and the man I was promised to marry."

Little would be said, and those visits would be brief, but the impression they hoped to foster was that upon Genma's death the remaining Saotomes had decided to honor their oath and accept Ukyo as Ranma's lawful bride, thus fulfilling the honor agreement between the two clans and ending the bad blood between them.

Any who figured it out would be offered the explanation that Ranma Saotome had given up his clan and thus no longer existed, so was effectively dead and the honor debt fulfilled. On the other hand, if the honor debt was transferable to his new clan then so was the obligation to marry, and Ukyo had married him, so it was fulfilled in that case, too.

It was a solid case, but not the only possible interpretation. There were others that could, in a worst case, lead to those two clans going to war. So that person would be sworn to secrecy so the Saotomes and Kuonjis did not have this tangle lying between them

Even though they would almost certainly win any feud with Ranma, Seijuro and Ukyo on their side, the Kuonjis just didn't feel right about killing a whole lot of innocent people just because they happened to be related to that honorless moron: Genma.

So, already glad to call the honor debt completely fulfilled among themselves, the clan prepared a celebration and the duo left to go claim Ranma for the party (and administer the cure), while behind them the Kuonji patriarch ordered Genma's rather spooky severed head sealed in salt inside of a stone barrel (actually a section of concrete pipe with capped ends, which was what they could afford), covered in spirit wards drawn by a miko in the family and thrown in the sea off the side of a deep sea fishing boat that owed them a favor.

OoOoO

Back at the film studio an unusual stalemate had erupted, with the youma unable to make significant direct physical attacks on the Scouts because of the constant interposition of Ranma's lightning cat defending them. But the cat was unable to destroy the metal spike-studded demon that had grown blades all over its form to protect it from the feline's teeth and claws. They could both injure the other and heal from those wounds, but finishing the other off was outside their power.

Miukyo had vanished as a good ninja should when the youma turned its attention on her, and the Scouts were collectively too exhausted to muster much of an offense outside of a real crisis direct on their persons. They lobbed the occasional energy attack, which the youma often evaded just as they escaped the return volleys it shot off at them.

Basically, the side to receive reinforcements the fastest would triumph, and while Nephlite was not normally in the habit of reinforcing youma assaults he could not secure the energy gained until that youma returned successful, and the things were not programmed to retreat from a fight. No, whoever had created the demons had granted them traits much like their controllers - barely sane and vindictive to a fault.

The quickest, best way to recover any youma was to allow it destroy it opponents. Anything else risked destroying the youma, as once they had prey they didn't know how to let go, and making them do so often required breaking them, which would dissipate the energy they'd gathered and destroy the whole point.

Youma just wouldn't let go until any target that dared to fight them was dead, or so badly drained as to be utterly defeated (in truth, youma were so simple minded they often had trouble telling the difference).

No, Tensie was staying on scene until the fight got resolved, one way or another. It wasn't a smart tactical decision, but no one yet had accused any youma of brilliance.

OoOoO

Luna was running, along with Serena and one of the Ranmas (before he destroyed them all), to the film studio to go rescue the Scout of Fire, when she paused upon seeing a certain green symbol flash into being on the forehead of a young brown-haired girl with a long ponytail as she reacted in surprise to the rapid passage of Ranma and Sailor Moon.

"Sailor Jupiter!" the cat called out in shocked recognition.

She was blinked at by a startled and very pretty brunette.

"Here! Take this pen! The lives of your fellow Scouts may be in danger!" The black cat performed a twirl and flip, courtesy presenting the transformation object to the very shocked young lady.

Not yet saying a word, still wondering if some boy hadn't put something in her pixie sticks recently eaten at the arcade, the girl accepted the transformation pen and blinked at it, once, twice, three times...

"Now, hold it high above your head, and call out, Jupiter Power!" Luna advised.

OoOoO

Reinforcements soon arrived for both sides.

Nephlite came personally to see what was the hold-up, while several parties of those friendly to the Sailor Scouts arrived near-simultaneously.

"Ah! AH! AAAHHHH!!!!" The Dark General cried out as nearly a dozen arrows fitted with moonstone tips tore effortlessly through his shield and, if not for the armor value of his uniform, probably would have fatally pincushioned him. As it was, roughly ten of them went knuckle-deep through those protective fabrics and into his body, while one slashed a cheek and the last completely pierced through his left hand, which he'd used to shield his eye from the arrow, which would have penetrated his brain and instantly killed him.

Miukyo smirked and then vanished to go off and create new arrows.

In response to this outrage, the Dark General pulled out and flung aside those that had stuck in him while summoning an extra thirty youma to punish those who'd dare to defile his person.

Now there is a substantial difference in combat effectiveness between an energy-engorged youma and one that wasn't. Seeing as how Nephlite's newest batch weren't even prepped for combat, the difference was roughly the same as a modern jet fighter that had fuel and armaments and one that didn't.

The first is a terrifying force of destruction, and the other an expensive lawn ornament. However, until they started doing stuff they looked the same, so the difference wasn't immediately apparent to those who faced them.

"Film Studios are for making wonderful romantic movies so that young girls can have dreams of their futures!" Came an impassioned voice from atop the compound wall, and many cameras swiveled to catch the irate princess going through the gestures that activated her suite of defensive enchantments, over and above the usual base minimums the other Scouts enjoyed. "For daring to stand against those dreams, I, Sailor Moon, will punish you, in the name of the Moon!"

And from that windup, she delivered, "Moon Tiara Magic!"

For Serena, during the time this speech took, she went from facing one youma and a Dark General to thirty-one and a wounded general. She noted, in her moment of releasing her attack, how the numbers had changed and would have flipped if not for the necessity of picking a target.

As it was, the Moon Tiara flew out on a wild swing and cut half a dozen of the newly arrived youma in twain, dusting them and restoring Serena's confidence before her jewelry returned to her hand.

This same attack inspired renewed confidence in the rest of the Scouts, and they let out a barrage in all directions that cut the newly arrived demons down to by another twelve.

The Nekoken used this moment to drive an attack into Tensie, forcing that youma back as they both gave and received wounds to the other. However, that attack was soon joined by the arrival of Tuxedo Mask, and the balance of the fight shifted.

However, the previously romantic warrior's attack form was somewhat... odd.

"Uhm," the newly called Sailor Jupiter appeared, with Luna, on the wall beside the dumpling headed Sailor Moon and stared at the scene before her. "Why is that guy in formal wear moving around on all fours and yowling like a cat?"

Sailor Moon sucked on the end of her finger. "Luna? Why is Tuxedo Mask acting like that? I mean, WE don't have to start moving around that way, do we?"

"And show off our panties to everyone nearby?!" Mars was outraged, having only just regrouped with the others on the wall. "Forget it, if that's the case then I'm going to quit."

"It's just not proper," Mercury agreed, also sucking on her fingertip, and glancing back over to Mars, who'd both turned her back and folded her arms, as if to say that her statement was final.

"Oh my," Luna sighed, ignoring this to stare and blush at the scene before her. "I never realized how sexy Tuxedo Mask was before now."

All five Scouts sweatdropped.

(AN: And people say there's nothing new left to do! Can you believe that?)

"You guys don't do anything... weird, do you?" Venus asked nervously, only to receive four very fervently shaken heads in reply.

"I have no idea why Tuxedo Mask is doing that," Sailor Moon declaimed, then her eyes expanded to tea cup size as she watched him cut off the youma's arm with a set of insubstantial energy claws. "I have no idea how he is doing that! But there's no way I'm going to do the same in this skirt!"

"Neither am I," both Mercury and Mars agreed, settling the fears of the other two, who let out steam-puff sighs of relief over this revelation.

"Actually, we've got ourselves another protector who is very good at supporting us in these types of circumstances," Mercury supplied helpfully, typing away at her keypad, visor already in place. "In fact, he should be arriving just about... now!"

Two blurs sped past the Sailors' position of relative safety, colliding with the youma currently milling around the studio grounds looking for victims (who knew better than to wander onto a strange set while it was filming, even if the usual notices hadn't been posted, so were consequently staying out of the way and substantially reducing the available target profile).

Between Hiten Mitsurugi's godlike speed, the deadly force of their blows, the weak defenses of their opponents, and the ability to destroy five targets in one swing, it seemed that the twin blurs didn't even slow down while destroying Nephlite's entire pool of youma reinforcements.

Then the pair darted forward through a host of launched spikes, parrying every last one as they lunged within range and fired off a host of vacuum blades that shot off toward the empowered youma that was currently engaged in combat with the two disparate felines (one, composed of an element, the other clad in elaborate formal wear) and impacted on the creature, splintering spikes and defensive armor to beat apart its defenses and cripple it, rendering it vulnerable and helpless for the cats to then finish it off.

Anything Goes was a good style, adaptable to nearly any circumstance, but it wasn't designed to kill. Hiten Mitsurugi, on the other hand, was. However, the deadly art was noted for its reliance on a sword, while the armored and spike-studded youma they had only just destroyed had already demonstrated an ability to control other's weapons when said weapons got used against it. So the pair of newly arrived martial artists had simply treated that as any other ability or technique and worked around it, resorting to other attacks to defeat it, and succeeded.

Nephlite was, needless to say, extremely angry at the destruction of Tensie. But he had nothing to gain by staying around now that both the youma and its stolen energy was lost. Plus, he was staring in the face of a good dozen vacuum blades and a full suite of the Sailor Scout's magical attacks headed his way, so he disappeared with a foul expression on his face, not having time to vow dreadful revenge upon his enemies.

With a disdainful snort, Ranma and Miranko cam to a halt and sheathed their swords with matching clicks as those dreadful weapons settled into their scabbards.

"Oooh!!" A newly called Sailor Jupiter nearly swooned with joy over having such a hunk (the guy) on her team.

Maybe he could show her some moves?

Perhaps not very surprisingly, several other blushing Sailor Scouts were thinking along nearly identical lines. Amy was blushing the rosiest of them all as she decided to go traipsing down the lane of thought that started with the words of his father about possibly marrying them, or on a more personal note - her.

Ranma instantly got surrounded by a gaggle of magical girls who were all very eager to congratulate him on such an impressive victory. The fact that Miranko had participated as an equal partner in that got conveniently ignored, and if a reassuring hand got laid on his arms, back, shoulder, or wherever as part of that positive reinforcement, and just happened to feel up those wonderfully rock-hard muscles, well, who is to say that was wrong?

Every girls' gotta have a hunk, right? I mean, they just wouldn't be complete without a prime chunk of man to ogle in their lives...

... and Tuxedo Mask was proving he had astonishing flexibility by licking himself in public, now that the fight was over.

Down on the ground beside them, a blind Chinese boy was already demonstrating the rush of energy-returned by the youma's destruction as he sat up and started blinking,

"Ranma... and Ranma?!??" Mousse reached into his robes and pulled out a spare pair of glasses, adjusting them on his face as he had trouble believing his eyes. Was he seeing double now? But then why was one of them in girl form?

"I am the wife of Ranma Hiko, 14th master of the Hiten Mitsurugi style of ultrasonic sword techniques, which cannot fail to kill an opponent." Miranko answered, proud to be able to use that line at last.

"Ah! Now there's two of them!" Mousse yelped in dismay before passing out from the stress, falling back over with a 'thud.'

Ranma himself was bent over, checking for residue or other magical traces that would help him better understand this foe, when a pair of orange boots stepped into his field of vision, tracing up to reveal the face of a gorgeous blonde.

OoOoO  
Author's Notes:

I'd like to thank Howard the Grum for his excellent works of fiction, and for the privilege of reading those. It has definitely served as inspiration.

Something about this chapter just didn't want to come together. But oh well, now we are hopefully past that part and can go on to more silly goodness without delay!


	10. Chapter 10

Ruroni Ranko   
Chapter Ten 

by Skysaber   
aka Jared Ornstead 

During the mushroom incident events diverge from normal and enemies try to take advantage of our pigtailed hero. Unfortunately for them, attempts to get rid of him often go disastrously wrong. 

OoOoO 

Nabiki liked to be seen as a borderline dangerous girl, appealing to those that liked to think they were taking risks or breaking the mold, in other words your typical rebellious teen, a group that just happened to compose most of her peers and social contacts. But to make such an image work, a girl has got to show glimmers of possibly being that way just because she didn't have someone to depend on - and that the moment such a someone showed up and wormed his way in past her defenses, that she'd miraculously turn around to become the sort of girl you could love and trust unconditionally, that you could take home to show to mom and dad before starting a fairytale life together. 

That was the dream people had, so by adhering to that image she appealed to that dream and got an effective bait, drawing sucker after sucker into her unforgiving trap. 

The truth was she was mean. She hurt people just because she found it amusing, a proof of her power and superiority over them. In actual fact she wasn't all that smart, most of her schemes being shallow and short-sighted, sometimes to the extreme. She actively worked to upset her customers because she liked the feelings of being in control she got from seeing their impotent fury rail uselessly against her. 

But that wasn't the way to build up any long term business or client base. It was like setting fire to your house to keep warm, sure, it worked - for a little while, but it was stupid and in the long run terribly self destructive, destroying alot more value than you gained. 

Worse still, for her, was that she was proud enough to feel that these destructive habits were her divinely granted privilege, or something like that, never admitting to herself they would guarantee her failure in the business world later in life. Sure, she could conceal her thorns long enough to get hired, probably at a very nice place. But it would not be long before that company discovered her real character (or lack thereof) and not only would they fire her, but with the reputation she'd gain from it, no legitimate place of business would ever hire her again. Not even the Yakuza would trust her, because really she's transparent, and only gives off the appearance that she's subtle when contrasted to the people around her who wore their hearts on their sleeves. 

Nabiki was in actuality shallow, narrow-minded, and blind to all but her obsession (which was making a quick yen) nor did she care anything for the consequences. 

In other words, she was your average Nerima resident. 

However, even Ryoga would notice a mountain being dropped on his head. In the short space of a few weeks, Nabiki had been privy to any number of eye-opening shocks and experiences that she could have happily lived all of her life without even imagining. 

It all started with Ranma breaking into her bedroom and shoving a sword through her gut. That was bad enough all on its own to warrant special mention, but in hindsight it wasn't all that horrible. If she'd had a choice between going through that one again instead of being sent back in time to this era as she'd been, she would have bared her midriff cheerfully and asked Ranma if he preferred to run her through from the front or back, then smiled while he'd done it. 

At least, she would have if she'd known how terrible the experience of going back in time was going to be. 

Ranma's sword thrust, while dramatic and frightening in the extreme, hadn't even hurt until she'd forced him to make it do so. It had also been mercifully brief, and left no lasting consequences. Contrasting that with the situation she was now in, and she'd take the sword thrust any day of the week. She'd take it two or three times and then ask him if he wanted to set up weekly appointments. 

Nabiki had been successful in all of her schemes because she had become master of her environment. She'd known every loophole and weakness and played up to them, developed a set of skills based on exploiting them, then ruthlessly taken advantage of everyone around her without pity or remorse. 

But that had been as a highschooler in Nerima. 

Outside of that environment she was as well adapted as a fish out of water. 

Back in ancient Japan, everything she'd tried to do so far had failed. 

Nabiki hadn't felt the slightest qualms about dipping into her family's martial arts tricks (as exemplified by their founder) and try to live by thievery. After all, she'd reasoned, she was already effectively an outlaw anyway, why not enjoy the benefits? 

Well, the main reason was people in the future were unbelievably wealthy by local standards and as a direct result of that, had grown lax in protecting their goods. Her father's training mission consisted largely of grabbing stuff and running, with the occasional beating to convince him it was not a good idea to get caught, and so push himself to greater speed and agility while pursued by angry crowds. 

You couldn't train like that in the local environment because they didn't arrest thieves, or simply beat them, they killed them. A person caught wasn't pounded on until bruised and then let go, but was summarily executed on the spot as often as not. 

Nabiki learned that the hard way while getting caught stealing a bag of rice, when she found that she couldn't run as fast with the rice in her grasp as the man who owned it could run without. She'd gotten caught and beaten, which she'd almost expected, but it hadn't stopped with that. The guy didn't give her a few bruises, then walk away with his reclaimed goods. No, he'd kept on beating her until she could barely even groan, wondering if she wasn't going to die. Then he had to remove all doubt by taking a sharpened bamboo stake and preparing to drive it through her heart. But, in placing its tip against her chest, he'd noticed her breasts for the first time. 

It had been lust that saved her then, as the guy apparently decided a little rape was in order before killing her. She hadn't been in any shape to resist , so he'd gotten her pants off and was marveling at her lacy panties when a surge of panic filled adrenaline gave Nabiki just enough energy to grab his own discarded stake and kill him with it, stabbing harshly in a frantic thrust while he was still distracted by her embroidered underwear. 

It hadn't been pretty. It had been messy, and miserable, and she'd thought that she might die anyway because at first she couldn't move her battered and bruised body out from under his dead weight, and the corpse had nearly crushed the life out of her. 

Then she'd had to come to grips with having taken her first life, and it was lacking all of the usual trappings of nobility, honor, war or duty - the excuses crafted over millennia to make the horrible experience of taking a human life slightly easier. There came an injury to the soul from killing that those who had never done it couldn't understand. They could hear about it, even accept that it was there, but it wasn't something they could comprehend until they'd done it. And it was one of those soul-deep miseries that could make otherwise stoic and hardened men both cry and puke their guts out the first time it happened. 

There's a reason soldiers often drink. 

For all of the callousness she'd thought she'd had, Nabiki wasn't prepared to be a murderer. She also found it hard to excuse to herself the circumstances under which she'd taken her first life; she'd stolen a guy's food and he'd chased her down, caught her, and beat her almost to death for it. 

Then she'd killed him. 

Yes, he would've killed her. Yes, he was trying to rape her. Those were generally good excuses, but she'd provoked that encounter in the first place by stealing from him. It led to a tangled morass without easy resolution and left her feeling surprisingly sick of herself and her behavior. 

Emotions are rarely ever logical, but in this instance she found herself reexamining all she'd ever done with her life up until that point, trying to justify her existence by exposing some good deeds to make up for having committed what felt like cold-blooded murder, and she sadly concluded that she hadn't been a very nice person. 

The rice had been strangely unappetizing after all that, but she ate it anyway, having nothing else. 

That entire experience was miserable enough to sour her on thievery for a time. 

Still, after she'd stripped the body and washed the blood off of her new clothes, she did gain an authentic outfit for the period, instead of her 'okay from a distance' pajamas. 

One of her previous 'clients' in Nerima had, while otherwise meekly paying up on a completely unfair debt, asked her what she thought of ethics. Nabiki's rather flippant reply had been, "Never heard of them." Sick of herself and all she'd done with her life up to that point, as she washed the blood out of her new clothes she resolved to find out. 

But she still had to support herself while she tried to find a way to learn. 

Her next try at making a life for herself came in the form of the Nerima classic tradition of crossdressing, trying to pass herself off as a boy, feeling that by doing so she'd gain the greater rights of a male, and by doing that gain some slight measure of security. 

Unfortunately, that was just as spectacular a failure in its own way. Her speech and mannerisms were way too feminine even after she did her best to conceal them. She didn't have the encyclopedic knowledge of how to act as the other gender that Nerima's finest so effortlessly displayed, and her figure was way too female to conceal without expert skills in that department; Skills she did not have. 

The fact of the matter was, she sucked at crossdressing. She hadn't been practicing it all of her life, starting from childhood where it was easier, nor was she a genius at reading body posture or even acting. 

Even Ranma, at his tomboyish best, made a better girl than she did a boy, and a large part of that she had to attribute to his skill at reading postures and motions that came from his insane martial arts ability. He didn't have to think about a kendo stance when he was using kendo, and somehow he'd automatically adjusted so that, unless he was trying not to, when that boy was a girl he just automatically moved and stood like a true girl would. 

It was maddening to have been surrounded by true experts at this, then to realize you'd picked up next to nothing just when that skill could be a lifesaver. 

The men who found her out went to set a trap for exposing her. A group of them set up a bathing opportunity for Nabiki, her first in a long time, then all walked in on her when the crossdressing girl been led to believe she'd have privacy. 

There, in all her naked, sudsy glory, they'd tried to pounce on her with plans no less lecherous than Happosai would've admired. In fact, the old man left off at groping and a bit of underwear theft, where these men would've gone all of the way, and most probably used her until she died from the experience. 

But she'd learned a thing or two from having Ranma as a houseguest, and that was walls are only another form of door when you're really motivated. She'd smashed some wood planking and got out of there as fast as her two bare legs could carry her. She'd lost her period outfit, having to leave it behind as there was no way to retrieve it without getting caught by those men, but in spite of that damaging loss, counted herself lucky to have gotten away with her life and virginity intact. 

All the way out, as she darted across fields and reeds slapped, stinging, against her naked feet, she was blessing herself for having resumed what she could recall of her martial art training, even as she cursed herself for having made so little of that precious opportunity when expert training was available to her, free for the taking. But it had taken this sort of experience, the helpless need, to convince her that she really wanted it. 

It was humiliating to realize you'd been THAT blind and short-sighted. 

Just like living in a house with one of the best cooks and homemakers in all Japan, then realizing when it came time to take care of yourself that you couldn't order fast food anymore, and that Genma's 'Secret Cooking Technique' of camp rice was, pathetic as it was, better by far than anything you'd ever achieved in that department. 

It was endlessly frustrating to know, just when you need it most, that you'd lived your whole life next to a true expert, and used none of the near-endless opportunities to help out and, by doing so, receive that expert's tutoring in her skill. 

For free, even. No cost at all. 

It would have taken nothing but a little of her time to have helped out in the kitchen here or there, and by doing so gain a portion of that skill and be endlessly better prepared to live out on her own, as she was now. 

But Nabiki could not be bothered to pick up even the slightest hint of Kasumi's domestic genius back when she'd had the chance, or her father's (admittedly degenerated from his prime, but still useful) martial arts ability. 

Either one of those could have saved her endless troubles where she was now. 

Even Akane, who could barely look at a skillet without setting it on fire, and who'd put poison in her meals all without meaning to, would be better suited to this environment than Nabiki was. Akane could become some sort of warrior nun or something, and have some small amount of respect... until she died on some nameless battlefield somewhere with a spear stuck through her guts, as she'd never bothered to listen to Ranma about tightening those holes in her defenses (and the goons around here were a bit more skilled than the students of the Furinkan Soccer or Dancing clubs had been, in those mobs she'd defeated). 

Kasumi, however, would fit right in to this place. In fact, with the notable absence of a few modern labor-saving devices, she'd feel right at home. She might even like it better than Nerima, as there was no way she'd stay unwed even a single week around here, and given how kind and gentle and considerate she was, not to mention respectful, skilled and beautiful in a way that was nearly off the charts by local standards, her dear older sister would certainly land the best possible marriage in the whole entire region. 

After one or two little wars were fought over her, of course. 

Actually, if both of her sisters had come back, Kasumi could arrange for Akane to be her personal female bodyguard, and thus the fiery tempered one could survive a lot longer than just another nameless body on a forgotten battlefield, providing Kasumi sent her ever-temperamental youngest sister away on some errand or other before each of her husband's visits, that is. It wouldn't do to let Akane lose her temper and provoke the guy who paid the bills or had tons of other loyal guards with sharp, pointy swords on hand, after all. 

Maybe, in that case, Nabiki could arrange to be her sister's live-in nanny, or some other unskilled role. Frankly, what she'd WANT to do, if her older sister was here, would be to instantly prostrate herself at Kasumi's feet and beg for her to teach her how to be even half as good as she was on the domestic side of things. 

She was tired of eating burnt rice. Nor could she get a comfortable bath and her pajamas stank and itched because she didn't have any soap to really get them clean. 

Nabiki shook herself back to her present situation. Glad as she would be to mooch off of her dear eldest sister's generosity for the rest of her life, or clutch her feet pleading for instructions, she wasn't here, and that wasn't an option. 

She had, after her brief attempt at going at a life of crossdressing, returned to thievery for a time, but she approached it in a more intelligent way, going for stealth and burglary rather than a simple snatch and run. 

It wasn't the way she'd wanted to live her life, but she had, by that point, run low on that initial bag of rice and wasn't aware of how to get another set of period clothes. So, she'd taken to sneaking around at night looking for opportunities. 

While she wasn't particularly good at that, either, she'd had one innovative idea, and used her cell phone to provide a bit of light. It wasn't much to see by, but it was enough. The most dramatic thing was the spot of blue glow was a very unnatural color for lights in the dead of night, so superstitious peasants steered very clear of her when she had it out. 

Using a ringtone here or there aided her substantially in the 'spook' act, and let her get away with a fair amount of larceny that the locals all blamed on unfriendly spirits. 

The trouble with that was her battery life was limited, very limited in fact. Oh, it had seemed more than generous in the future, when it was a phone and all she was going to do was make calls on it. There recharging it had been easy, trivial really. Back here, in the past, when every second of glow was a "Spooky thing going on here, stay away" sign that kept potentially violent and dangerous locals away, it was not just a phone, it was life. 

In that circumstance, a few hours of battery power was just not enough. Even carefully hoarding each and every second, using it only at need and never a heartbeat more than necessary, it could never be enough because it must eventually run out. 

That made her face the fact that that lifestyle just wasn't going to work out long-term. So she had resolved again to make a try at ordinary, honest work. 

It looked for a time as if her second attempt at leading an honest life was going so much better than her first, and it had, really. Between the resources she'd been able to lift doing her 'spirit of the night' act, and the conversations that she'd overheard from spying on people evening out several of the more notable flaws in her accent, she was able to make a far more presentable go at being an accepted, if not respected, member of society. 

That was all due to two things, the first being her carefully choosing a town with a fair amount of traffic, large enough so that no one could know the names and faces of all of their neighbors, somewhere to blend in, in other words. 

The second was that she had a fair amount of skills that were rare among the locals. For one, she could read and do figures among the best of them. Once she'd gotten a good set of clothes she was able to play the part of an educated person whose family was stuck in hard times, and so went out to join the work force as a productive citizen. 

That had gone over surprisingly well for a few months. Her disguise had held. She didn't speak much for fear of revealing how little she truly fit in, but that had all seemed very proper and feminine for the time period. So she got herself a job as a bookkeeper doing accounting for a modestly prosperous merchant, where things went along fairly pleasantly. She even achieved a certain degree of comfort, able to afford baths, her own clothes, and a decent enough place to sleep that was neither dangerous nor nosy. 

All of that ended when she'd gotten greedy. 

In a way she could hardly help it. Nabiki had held greed to be her own special virtue for the longest time, and always imagined that she was smart enough to get away with it. In that, she was wrong. 

She was very nearly dead wrong over it. 

The merchant had noticed her embezzling, which she'd felt she'd hidden so cleverly, and had hired a couple of tall, ugly thugs to beat out of her the location of all of the money she'd stolen. Naturally, she'd known nothing of this until she made the walk from the pleasant home of the family she was boarding with and opened the door to the merchant's shop to see the first thug already making a grab for her. 

She'd gotten away, but only after a chase that resulted in her being marked as a criminal who could never go back to that town again. And, without a horse or the ability, like Ranma had, to traverse long distances on foot, that meant her reputation as a thief spread much farther much faster than she could travel. So, no more honest jobs doing accounting for merchants for her. 

However, she had been careful enough that her former employer did not know the family with which she stayed, so Nabiki was able to sneak back, before that family had learned of her crimes, and collect her belongings. 

It humbled her how the work of a few months could still be comfortably fit within the confines of Genma's spare backpack. 

The few coins for which she'd traded a comfortable existence and not unpleasant future she didn't want to just stuff in any old pocket. For one thing period outfits did not come with pockets, and for another she had no desire to advertise her small fortune to any thieves who may try robbing her. It was bad enough carrying all of her worldly belongings on her back, but owning cash that could tempt anyone running into her to steal was almost worse. 

At first she considered hiding her small fortune inside of her feminine cavity. After all, she'd inserted tampons in there, this couldn't be much different. However, she was told by the kindly mother of her host family, who'd noticed that she was about to depart, that any person who was at all likely to rob her was also probably going to rape her, too. Hiding things inside of herself was a secret best used by old women who no longer attracted any such attention, and that for anyone else it was an exercise in futility. 

In fact, those few times a fortune was discovered hidden in such a manner the tales spread and it only encouraged more rape of female travelers. 

Faced with such disheartening news, Nabiki could only sigh and miss her home. 

Then it was off to yet another attempt at forging a life for herself in this time period. She had noted that, while there were some small stirrings of discontent, no revolution had yet started. So she wasn't in the Meiji at all, or at least not yet. The girl had managed to learn during her short stint of doing figures what the approximate date was, and they were still far short of the time when Admiral Perry came and opened Japan to Western culture and influence. Well, far on a personal scale, anyway. If she recalled her dates right (which was something she could not be sure of - this had all seemed so trivial back in a classroom), the actual revolution wasn't going to start for another half a dozen years. 

Which, frankly, seemed an eternity away to the poor girl. And even then, that wasn't going to be a fun period to live through. Civil wars always got more ugly and involved more homes and sheltered areas than anyone desired going into them. 

What she truly wanted was a way to go back to Nerima and her family and home. 

OoOoO 

A very good reason why time is not to be tampered with without a great deal of knowledge (and more than your fair share of luck) was that ripples, once started, could (as anyone might expect) travel forward very easily. But under the right circumstances they could also travel backward. 

Just like the ripples on a pond would go first out from the splash of a thrown stone, but then rebound off the sides and go right back to the center again, occasionally passing over themselves going different directions, leading to a cascade of seemingly contrary effects bouncing around like pinballs. That made the whole thing very complicated. 

Thus, manipulating the time stream was not for the faint of heart. 

One of those rippling timeline changes arose from a shift no one may ever identity, using a trigger based on the fact that Genma Saotome was a very stupid, as well as a very boastful, fellow who liked to get drunk. So, in what was now officially the true story of Ranma prior to his time jump back to feudal Japan, the one where he was now the kidnapped son of a very popular film star, a new change developed. 

All it took was one night in a bar when the subject came up on the news in a report and the incredibly vain, and more drunk than usual, idiot got to loudly proclaiming that those police would never find Nodoka's kidnapped son, because they'd never get the secret out of HIM! And then Genma had followed this with other obvious ramblings that made it even more inescapably clear he was the one who had the boy. 

Now that would have been a bad enough boast to make in any case, but worse if there had been any sort of cop present. However it was far, far worse that Genma didn't associate in the kind of bars that would tolerate police when he could avoid it, and so this was a bunch of seedy, underworld figures who overheard his bragging. 

Well, one thing led to another, and a few of those types investigated, then reported to their bosses, who liked reward money as much as the next crook, and who liked even more stomping on independent operators as much as possible and, well... 

Genma Saotome fled Japan with Ranma as soon as he'd gotten over his hangover. To this day he still had scars from the bullet wounds. There was one hidden under that cloth he wore over his head from a bullet that had only narrowly missed detonating his skull like an exploding melon. An act that, unhappily for Genma, would have troubled no one but himself had it actually happened. 

Unfortunately for the proto-panda, some mobsters spotted him leaving Japan, and they had contacts in China (which was the place he'd tried running to), so as soon as Genma and his kidnapped child had pulled themselves up onto the beach after swimming the Sea of Japan they'd been confronted by some Triad thugs in dark grey suits who felt that if they had Nodoka's son they could exchange him for favors with their communist government, who could in turn perform some minor amount of arm-twisting with the Japanese embassy over trade concessions. The communists would probably get even more mileage out of publishing the fact that it was a Japanese man who'd done the actual kidnapping, and they'd just apprehended him crossing their borders. 

One chase across the rurals of China later, getting shot at by goons on both sides of the law, and Genma decided that China wasn't a great place to train like he'd thought it was. The pair had somehow managed to smuggle themselves into a cargo boat and somehow managed to pick one that happened to be going to England. 

Not Genma's first choice by any means, but while not a martial arts mecca, it was far enough from those Yaks and Triads for the heat to die down. 

He'd almost changed his mind that first night when, upon breaking into a store to steal some booze, his behind had gotten lit up by a Venus Meteor Beam, sending him off to the prison hospital where he'd turn out to be very popular with the other inmates. 

Ranma, on the other hand, was too busy laughing at his father's predicament, beaten up by a 'weak girl', to get involved until a pair of shapely red boots stepped into his field of vision, cutting off his laughter. The masked blonde had a smile on her face as she'd looked down upon him, hands perched on perky, blue-skirted hips. 

Much like the event that had started this flashback, which was why it served as a good trigger for the onrush of those new memories. 

However, just then cascading ripples crossed each other yet again, and somehow suddenly that was not the first time Ranma had met the beautiful Sailor V, proving how very confusing this whole time ripple thing could be. 

No, tampering with time was definitely not for the faint of heart. 

So, back then in England, the pretty (and first activated) Sailor Scout gushed forth to the prone with laughter martial artist in shocked recognition. "So... Hey! I know you!" Sailor V kept rushing on, "I met you on my first night as a soldier of justice. Right after I beat that one Dark Syndicate guy you two were there!" 

Ranma had blinked up at the sailor suited soldier for love and justice just as a completely new set of echoed-in memories struck him. "Mina-chan?" 

Instantly the perky blonde had scooped him up off the floor and was hugging his arm. "Ranma! Oh! I was right that first time. This world is still full of cute boys! But you and your dad are the second plot I've taken down already tonight. What's going on?" 

"Hehehe," Ranma chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Well, pops isn't really a Dark Syndicate anything. Like I told you the last time, he's just a moron, and a thief, and a..." 

"HEY!" The excited (and lovely) soldier of justice shouted, bouncing up and down against his arm. "Why don't you join me? I know from before that you're a really powerful martial artist. I could use your help against the Dark Syndicate!" 

"But, I..." 

"Couldn't he, Artemis?" 

Instantly freezing at the appearance of a cat, Ranma got paralyzed while that feline spoke, considering, "Well, Mina, the Scouts did once have powerful knights to defend them. But..." 

"Great!" The enthused warrior of justice shouted. "Ranma, from now on you can be my Knight!" 

"Hey, wait a minute Venus!" Artemis objected, "You can't just do that! There's..." 

"But Artemis, you said I'm a princess, with my own planet and floating castle, right?" The plucky and ever-popular Sailor V gushed. 

"Yes, that's right Venus. Mazeran Castle. It floats over the land of Aphrodite. It's your castle. I'm glad you remember." Her feline advisor nodded. 

"And the Queen of the Moon is dead, and we haven't found the princess, right? That's why I'm posing as her, to draw the enemy's attention away so we can find her before they do, right?" The Moon-costumed Scout of Venus pressed. 

"Yes, Mina... but that's not information you should be sharing in front of just anyone." Artemis eyed the young man in her arms and sweatdropped. 

"Aw, c'mon Artemis, you know he helped me before on the brainwashing TV thing! We saved all of Japan together!(1) He's trustworthy, even if his dad is a slimeball." The girl blushed, casting a sidelong glance to the incredible hunk now filling her arms as she argued successfully with her cat. 

Ranma winced, but was unable to refute the honesty of her statements. 

Mina posed triumphantly, two fingers making a 'V' over her eyes (while the other arm stayed around the cool guy she was drafting). "So, as a princess, until we find the Moon Princess that makes me the highest Moon Kingdom authority around, right? So I hereby adopt Ranma into our kingdom and accept him as my knight!" 

To both of their surprise, a thousand motes of starlight coalesced onto Ranma from all different directions, getting him to glow and pulse briefly before turning back to normal. 

As Artemis sweatdropped, Venus began giggling, inwardly congratulating herself on sidestepping her curse against finding love. 'And with her Venus Knight, Venus might have a Venus night!' (images of hearts and kisses floating around. the nubile and ever-plucky Sailor gave the boy an inexplicable shudder). 

"Huh?" Ranma blinked, suddenly unafraid of the Moon Cat and coming out of his state of paralyzation to see the wonderful yet scary visage of a possessive female grinning down on him like a cat that had caught her own canary. 

"So, you will help me fight, won't you?" Cue puppy dog eyes as she glomped him and directed a gaze of earnest yet innocent longing up to him, pleading for his help. 

"Uh, sure." Ranma's will melted before this assault. 

So, between the two of them, they'd cleaned out England of the Dark Syndicate in a matter of months, allowing Mina to return to Japan quite a bit early. Her parents would again move out of country for their jobs, though, and Ranma would get snagged by Genma to go off and resume their training journey, separating the duo. 

Thus Artemis would still teach Mina how to do a Sailor Teleport to return to Japan in response to that Moon Kingdom alarm to thwart that 'So You Want To Be A Star' scheme of Jedite's, where she, along with Serena as her partner, would still win that contest to become a superstar idol singer after defeating a minor Youma attack on the pageant, altering that timeline just enough so that Mina's parents were no longer concerned over how she'd managed to obtain a film contract in Japan while they were still abroad. As that excuse was now covered by a memory of a 'weekend trip' back to her homeland that Artemis inserted into their minds, now being much more proficient at that power from having used it so often to keep Genma running around on strange errands so that his son could fight alongside of the feline's charge without the overweight elder noticing. 

Although Venus was majorly bummed to have had her knight dragged off by his scumbag of a father just as they were doing so well together, she went on to deal crippling blows to organized crime and spy rings in mainland Europe. 

And, back to the present, Ranma once again found himself swept up into the delighted embrace of the Sailor of Venus. "Ranma!" she cried out in utmost delight. "Why didn't you tell me you were back from whatever that place was your dad dragged you off to?" 

"Oro?" the decidedly hugged martial artist mumbled into her breast, as it had been a subjective number of years or so since he'd even seen this girl, and he'd forgotten all about his Moon Knight powers, not having been able to activate any of them without her present. 

(1) This refers to an early adventure in the Sailor V comics, involving her own Dark General, and does not relate to a separate and very similar event sponsored by Jedite and occurring to Sailor Moon. 

OoOoO   
Author's Notes: 

Yes, I know. The last part is a bit confusing. But every so often you come across the question 'To post or not to post', and the answer to that had better be 'yes, post'. It gets you over those rough parts and off to writing again in smoother territory, at least it does for me. 

Also, I know any sort of matchup starring Nabiki is... well, for lack of a better word: tired. She's the single most popular match for Ranma after Akane, to judge by the sheer volume of fanfics that do so. So, yes, it's a bit hackneyed and overused, and I might not end up actually doing it, but if I do she's at least going to be tenderized a bit first. 

And the School of Hard Knocks is far from pleasant, but there are some lessons some people just refuse to learn any other way, and Nabiki strikes me as far too sure of herself to pick up humility in any other classroom. 


	11. Chapter 11

Ruroni Ranko  
Chapter Eleven

by Skysaber  
aka Jared Ornstead

During the mushroom incident events diverge from normal and enemies try to take advantage of our pigtailed hero. Unfortunately for them, attempts to get rid of him often go disastrously wrong.

OoOoO

Nodoka stood staring at her boy.

On her arrival the crowd of girls had parted from around him, all feeling strangely honored to be witnesses to what Mars' fierce whispers explained was going on.

It was an emotional experience for all involved.

Cameras still rolled in the background, not having been told to 'Cut' after the action sequence of the last dramatic fight scene. So all of this was being recorded on film from multiple angles as the emotional silence stretched on...

... until Miranko's elbow found its way into Ranma's ribs, and she whispered, "Ranma! Introduce us to your mother, please."

And that seemed to shatter the tension, for a moment at least, as the boy samurai's training kicked in and he started to name those girls around him. "Mother, I'd like you to meet Miranko and Miukyo, Sailor Moon, Sailor Mars, Sailor Venus, and Sailor Mercury."

A chorus of "How do you do's" echoed from the girls executing quick bows. All of that came to an abrupt end when Nodoka took one step forward, instantly resuming the tenseness of a moment ago, as it was clear the intense woman had never dropped it. Her eyes stayed fixed on her son, drawn to him, drinking in his every feature and making everyone feel as though those two were alone in that wide courtyard.

Even the reporter lady found she was without words, and had stopped talking to her crew, as her need to provide commentary got dwarfed by the magnitude of the moment.

Sailor Jupiter didn't even object to being left out of the introductions. After all, she reasoned, she hadn't been introduced to the boy herself, yet. Although she'd previously vowed that would change, right now she too was too absorbed in the dramatic atmosphere that had built up between the famous movie star and her long lost and now returned son.

At last the famous woman spoke. "Ranma?" the came a note of uncertainty to her voice, not yet fully convinced despite her strong earlier impressions. "Where have you been?"

"Fighting demons," the boy answered honestly.

A nod to the Sailor Scouts present added credibility to his statement. They had the national press in an uproar over whether or not their actions were against real supernatural threats. And, if that were so, what the government ought to do about it.

Nodoka accepted that at face value for the moment. "Why did you never call? You must have heard I was looking for you."

At that, Ranma couldn't help but grimace. "Yeah, but..." he sighed, drooping his head before inhaling deeply to blurt out the truth. "At first the guy I was with kept me too busy, training me to be the best martial artist of my generation. We moved all over the map and didn't stay in one place very long. I didn't get to see the outside world much. He was also careful I didn't know anything but what he taught me."

Sailor Mercury's voice came across unintentionally but clearly, as she spoke mostly to herself but got heard due to the overarching silence, "Isolation and indoctrination are both standard practices of brainwashing."

Despite herself, Nodoka found herself nodding slightly in agreement with the young girl's terrible prognosis. But her eyes stayed glued to her son. "But Ranma, why did you obey him?"

Here Ranma grimaced. "He was always telling me he was my pop."

There came a gasp from all around at the near-sacrilegious gall of that terrible falsehood. All knew that Ranma's true father had been killed during the kidnapping attempt. Still, rumors might have flown, as speculation is apt to grow, especially about stars, had not Ranma unintentionally nipped that in the bud by continuing to talk through it. "I don't know why I ever believed that. I look nothing like the guy, acted nothing like him either, and never could explain what someone like you could see in him. He was a drunk and lied his head off about everything else. I don't know why I ever thought he could tell the truth about that."

A small smile of forgiveness graced Nodoka's lips. "You were young."

Ranma rolled his eyes and sighed further. "Yeah, but I still should have figured it out. He was always trying to sell me off to people. Real parents don't do that."

Many female eyes hardened over that simple statement, but Nodoka's were hardest still, offended at the gall of that man. "No," she agreed. "Real parents don't."

Overcoming much of his own emotional imbalance, Ranma favored his mother with kind eyes. "I look forward to learning more of what real parents are like."

Sailor Moon had been blinking, head cocked in confusion. She touched her lip and spoke, unintentionally interrupting, "But I met the man you call your father, and I was sure you loved him."

All eyes went back to Ranma, who laughed good naturedly. "Oh, that's a part of the story I hadn't told yet. You see, the honorless bastard who'd first trained me didn't keep me forever. When I was about six..." the boy paused a moment, closed his eyes and inwardly resolved to blur the two stories into something a little more believable than having grown up almost completely twice. Magic on that scale was a little hard to credit by most people.

Opening his eyes, he met his mother's gaze with a kind smile. "Well, Genma, the name of the man who stole me was Genma Saotome, finally sold me, and I was rescued from the group of slavers by the man who raised me since. He is a good man. Still, every thing about life with Genma had been so traumatic that I'd begun to repress things, and the rescue was not a particularly pretty one. People died, and it didn't help that I'd forgotten my last name wasn't Saotome. So since he wasn't going to return me to that scum, my new dad kept me for himself. It wasn't until lately that I even began to recall that I had a mother."

Nodoka's eyes had softened, and she zipped forward and took him in a tight hug, whispering kind words into his hair. "You were young, and while I wish I could have been there to make it all better for you, I'm glad you had someone who made it alright."

Ranma, for possibly the first time in his life, was able to finally hug his mother. Lots of girls got gooey-eyed at the sight of the tender, mushy moment going on between them.

The camera crews were glad to be getting this on film.

OoOoO  
Tokugawa era

Nabiki looked up to the sky, serene and at peace, then went back to her sweeping.

~What would I have done, if I could have seen myself this way two years ago?~ the girl wondered, then disguised a snort. ~Well, the answer to that is obvious. I would have taken pictures, used them as blackmail to extract money until that ran out, and then sold the pics to miko-obsessed perverts.~ she chuckled to herself.

Yes, she would have done exactly that two years ago. The Nerima girl who was obsessed with money and power would not even have recognized the young lady she had become. Her hair was longer, her demeanor more proper and her movements refined by living a lifestyle she'd always pitied when she'd read about it in the history books.

Yes, the Nabiki from modern Tokyo would not only have failed to recognize this new person as herself, she'd have done her best to prostitute her to someone like Kuno.

Ironic, that.

~Not like it would have gotten her very far,~ Nabiki gave a sharp, hard thought to her younger, more foolish self in her thoughts. ~I may be proper now, but that's only because I had to adapt to my environment. You have to fit in before you can manipulate, and I am a very manipulative girl.~

Back in Nerima she had carefully mastered all of the skills appropriate to her place and time. Really, she was just doing the same thing here, learning the new rules for her new environment and gaining the important skills for her now present time. It was just basic survival, that's all it was.

You couldn't be a big fish in any kind of pool until you could safely breathe the water.

The temple she now resided at had been the perfect place to do that.

Nabiki continued to sweep the steps of the shrine where she both lived and worked, amusing herself by thinking, ~Around here, the ability to blend in, so I don't stand out and advertise myself as all of the various disadvantageous or downright illegal things I really am, like a girl without a family, and thus no one to protect me, is utterly vital and a critical necessity! And, fortunate for me, once you enter a temple family no longer matters much.~

That had given her most of the safety she'd needed to rebuild herself. Of course, you also gave up all of your worldly possessions on entering a temple, but what they did not know about didn't hurt her, so she'd buried all of her cash and belongings, except her worst set of clothes, before even coming here, just to have a tidy nest egg on hand for later. After all, as useful as it had been, she didn't intend to stay a miko forever.

Or at least, she hadn't been planning on staying when she first came there, but as she lingered she grew less sure over time.

There were temptations to just stay and enjoy her new life.

Her accent and clothes no longer marked her as foreign, or even as a full-blooded Japanese who'd traveled abroad in defiance of current laws. So she was much safer on that count. No longer standing out as an outsider eliminated a huge chunk of the native dangers. Now she'd only had to face the typical, everyday stuff that everybody back here had to live with -- some of which, quite frankly, was still pretty terrifying all on its own.

Being part of a temple gave her a sort of substitute clan. A group who could and probably would protect her to a degree, but, unfortunately, who also held onto her as their legal property. Because women like her did not own property, they WERE property. She was as much the possession of the temple as the broom in her hands, and they could do anything to her they saw fit to do.

Things like, oh, marry her off to the sort of man Kuno's always wanted to be - ironic, that. But she had no say in the matter.

Not exactly the ideal spot for a modern, liberated female, and the main thing that still kept her fondly dreaming of a return home. Not the only thing either, there was also her dear older sister Kasumi's cooking to consider, and hot baths, and.... well, the list went on.

Feudal Japan was not very comfortable in terms of day to day luxuries, or spices, or even conveniences like a simple blow drier.

Yes, she was roughing it by her standards, but at least no one was currently out for her head, like they used to be after her newly arrived self, and later thief on the run. She was still a heretic by the local standards. Having a dad like Soun was still plenty to have soured her on ancestor worship permanently, so she still drew all of her spiritual comfort from the Christian prayers her mother had once taught her when she was very small; only she didn't dare say any of them out loud, especially not here, at a Shinto temple of all places! But at least she'd gotten accomplished at disguising all of the things she ought to be killed for.

Really, she'd never have imagined herself as having broken so many deadly laws. But that was just the way it was immediately after her arrival. She was a modern Japanese girl, and that meant death by ancient Japanese laws and practices.

Of course, life was no picnic for an ancient Japanese female, either. And Nabiki had already begun making plans, anticipating having to get out of her current circumstance as sooner or later something was going to crop up, she felt certain.

Partly because she was starting to become hot property. She wasn't young. Back here in Tokugawa Japan girls married in their early to mid teens more often as not. But she wasn't quite yet old either, and had been picking up proper mannerisms fairly well, so was becoming a fit bride just by that standard. She still had her remarkably well endowed (by poorly nourished ancient Japanese norms) body, and her literacy and ability to work figures both stood out as outstanding. So there were a few lords looking into having her married to one of their lesser sons on those qualities alone so she could do all of the accounting for their holdings.

Older sons of those same local lords were already interested in the tales told about her very well developed figure; stories spread by the other shrine maidens, all of whom shared baths with her, and who tended to remark upon her curves to the local gossip circles, which in turn spread those tales to other interested parties.

Since advanced literacy and math skills were not something that came from the ranks of the peasantry, there were already accepted rumors about her being some lost daughter of some lord or other, and so perfectly acceptable for marrying off to another lord's progeny - if the temple which presently served as her clan was amenable, which, given the amount they could get in return for her, it most definitely was. The only question was how long they'd keep the opportunity open, and which of those offers they'd select.

Stripped of all of the formalized niceties, she was being bid on, and the temple was trying to determine the highest bid they could exchange her for. Simple business.

Sooner rather than later, she'd have some petty noble as her husband. Someone just like Kuno had always aspired to be. She brought no major clan affiliation or alliances, so it would be a small lord rather than a major one, but as her considerable skills and figure did stand out, among those who wanted her she was a hot item indeed.

Part of Nabiki was flattered that nobility was looking into her as an attractive bride. She would even have servants if she went that way, something that she'd always wanted. But popping out babies in the here and now meant giving up on ever going home. She knew herself well enough by now to know she wouldn't be able to bring herself to leave her children behind, and they wouldn't fit into her world any more than she'd fit in here. But more importantly, she KNEW there was a grand scale civil war coming up, and while she did know what side emerged victorious in the end, she had no way of convincing a future husband of that. So there was no telling which side her husband or his clan would be on.

Even if they did choose right, both sides took massive casualties in that war. And the lords, especially the young lords and samurai that made up most of a traditional fighting force (and the very body of men who were currently looking into marrying her) dropped like flies. She had read a tale or two about how after the Meiji Revolution the brothels were crammed full of the wives and daughters of fallen samurai, who'd lost their holdings when their lords had died - even those who'd been on the winning side!

No, Nabiki had no desires to tempt Fate. One of Ranma's statements, about hoping that destiny had enough of a sense of humor to land her in a brothel for having tried to turn everyone around her into a whore, came just a bit too close to home.

If she married a local samurai, that was all too likely a probability. And she didn't wish to see if Ranma had been on Fate's side when making that prediction. But the temple was looking into capitalizing on one of those marriage offers soon. So Nabiki was already looking into getting out even sooner, then resuming her efforts to get back to the future once again.

Not the least of her reasons was being homesick. There were countless modern conveniences she missed, but especially the luxuries lost to her: hot running water, the TV, the ability to shop for clothes instead of make them herself, and so on. She'd also very much like to have chocolate again - Nabiki didn't use terms like, 'would kill for' anymore because, having done that once for a bag of rice, she wasn't eager to repeat the experience. But the real kicker came almost as a shock to her: she missed her friends and family back in Nerima.

Back in the day, she didn't think anyone could miss her daddy, but Soun's daughter wanted to go home again, and circumstances were conspiring to force her out of her comfy retirement and back onto the search for a way to go.

Thinking the whole thing through, as one of her sideplots she had entertained a few ideas about taking her current stash of money and going to deposit it in a bank somewhere, so that if she could ever reach the future again she'd be filthy rich on the compound interest.

But then sober reality had hit.

Before the days of central banking, bank failures were a common, one might even say regular, occurrence. But even modern banks will 'close out' accounts that went inactive for a short period of time and would just keep all of the money.

No, banks were out to make money for themselves. That's all there was to it. An account left inactive for a hundred and fifty years was just, effectively, a donation to the bank as they'd inevitably take all of the money for themselves.

This was not an odd occurrence. It was policy, They even (quietly) ANNOUNCED they did that sort of thing! And it got even worse during or after a war, when so many clans and families disappeared and the warring sides wanted all the money they could lay their hands on, questionable sources or not!

So, pleasant dreams aside, she had no more chance of getting rich that way than she did of becoming Empress of Japan.

Actually, empress was far more likely. And that brought her back to her current set of difficulties - that of the rising certainty of her soon being married off.

Nabiki enjoyed washing clothes, and it was one of her few skills applicable to the local environment. So it had been a small deal on her arrival at the shrine to join the other washer women. Passing herself off as a mute or at least very quiet and rare spoken girl had been her plan, at least until her accent localized (which it eventually had), but once again old habits struck to make that impossible.

Washer women are among the most incurable gossips ever found, mouths keeping minds busy while their hands went through the routine and boring tasks. Trying to hold her tongue among such a flood of current information had been impossible for the mercenary Tendo girl. Holding and distributing information had been her stock in trade since her earliest childhood, and she hadn't been able to resist pressing for more interesting details here or there, which led to her being among the worst gossips of the whole bunch!

Thankfully her accent had held. No one had questioned her there. But she had made the mistake of asking about events or details that referenced the history of this period as she knew it - and in more than a few of those cases, that history hadn't happened yet!

Gossips being gossips, word of those flubs had spread, and when those events actually came to pass more or less as she'd described them, suddenly Nabiki had gone from just a lowly washer woman to a potential oracle or prophetess! Someone capable of making accurate predictions concerning the future.

Hot property indeed.

In the short term, that had meant an elevation from her position as washer woman to a keeper of the sacred fire, which meant chi training, which the poor girl had gratefully soaked up and then even expanded upon, knowing as she did the periphery of some of martial arts training exercises she'd been exposed to in the future.

Picking up the basics of chi manipulation at last had allowed her to make use of some of the other things she'd been around and witnessed the other martial artists learn. Flashy things like chi blasts were still beyond her, as was her father's demon head (which wouldn't have made her popular in the here-and-now in any case, and actually would probably have led directly to her death at the hands of demon hunters), but she was able to go from the very basics on to the next step of using chi to augment her body to make her faster and stronger. Nothing compared to the local heavy hitters, but better than the peasantry she'd once run in fear from.

Of course, being a prophetess and an advanced (by their standards) chi user, the shrine was more reluctant to let go of her. But in practical terminology all that meant was that her new abilities just drove the price up, and attracted a whole new level of clientele.

A more dangerous level, unfortunately.

Now it was almost an even toss-up between some middling to major local noble picking her up as a bride for a second or third son (or a second or third wife for a first son), or a local warlord deciding to pick her up for free simply by assaulting the temple to capture her, forcing her to use her talents and make predictions for him or be tortured.

Yup. Life was just fun and dandy here in the Meiji.

Looking down the steps she was sweeping, Nabiki noted off in the distance a party approaching on horseback. Judging by the standard they carried it was one of the more aggressive of the local warlords, and the amount of armed men he had with him made for more than a simple bodyguard.

It was a small war party, and by the glints of light coming off metal in the distance, not the only one trying to get to the temple first.

Nabiki put her broom down and ran to go make a package out of her few belongings and raid the kitchen for some food so she'd have something to live on as she ran off through the surrounding woods. Having lived on the run before, she knew having a few simple things made all of the difference in trying to reestablish herself elsewhere, and her time at the shrine had just run out.

OoOoO  
Modern Japan, Nerima

Akane was as far from happy as it was possible for a girl to get.

Having raised a fuss at Kuno's party, she'd been thrown out, face-first into a pig pen. Since the cuts on her cheeks and forehead had not yet healed, that meant the muck and mire got in them, requiring immediate attention. So she'd gone across the street to a traditional bathhouse, forgetting that she'd had no means to pay.

Shoving her way in had not been a problem, and given the emergency of her wounds the daughter of Soun had not even hesitated to use force to get her way.

Unfortunately for her, using force to use the facilities of a business that was owned by the Yakuza was often a bad idea.

A washcloth soaked in chloroform carried in by a female bather and applied by surprise had taken the angry girl out of action pretty quick. Then it was into a tub of dirty laundry with her to be carried out the back and put into a van.

This explained her waking up, still nude, behind bars in a cell on a farm for training sex-slaves for the foreign market (her scars made her unsuitable to the domestic one, as they would shove the price down unacceptably for customers able to read kanji).

The whip wielding woman glaring at her from outside the bars was not helping Akane's confidence problems.

OoOoO  
Modern Japan, Juuban

At last the battle had ended. The film crews had put away their gear (well, most of them, anyway), and it was 'get to know you' time for the estranged mother and child pair.

This left, of necessity, everyone else a little out of the picture. But while the epic resolution to one of Japan's modern tragedies was being made up in privacy, the others just kind of got together and had lunch, catching up on how they each knew Ranma. This naturally led to those of Nerima having the lion's share of the talking, as they'd know him much longer. But the person who ended up the star of this show was someone none of the immediate players had expected at all.

Cologne had appeared, all three hundred years of experience and knowledge packed into a package no older or less beautiful than her great granddaughter. And, since she'd brought the takeout for everyone to eat, she was more than welcome.

Also, her stories, both about Ranma and not, were simply the best. The empty boxes of the slaughtered meal were already scattered about and she was hardly getting started, having already had to retell one tale twice now to her stunned audience because they couldn't believe some of the more incredible bits.

Sailor Mercury blinked several times after the retelling. "But... weren't you arrested? The amount of property damage alone!"

Mars and Moon both blushed, turning their heads away and pretending not to pay attention to that statement, as there was a good reason why they kept their costumed identities secret - no one knew where to send the bills for their youma battles.

"Of course not, dear." Cologne chuckled. "I'm a diplomatically immune representative from an independent Chinese community. The authority figures were very helpful."

Mercury was still blinking. "But the communists do not tolerate independent states in areas under their control. They've fought several wars of expansion, and are famous for the brutal suppressions of their own people who try to resist their authority!"

The young matriarch could not, and did not try to, suppress her smile. "And who said anything about being under their control? We never were, and the last time they came to dispute that fact with us, we beat their whole country so badly they literally begged us to accept their surrender!"

"But... but they have nukes." Serena blinked, not getting it in spite of having a large number of Amazon techniques and powers explained during her previous stories.

Her statement further amused the young Amazon elder.

"Bah! The best of all possible weapons is worthless if you can't find a way to use it on your opponents. Yes, the Chinese are a nuclear superpower. What of it? We'd all left our valley before they even knew they were at war with us. We'd known of their capabilities and lack of regard for human life long before we came into conflict with them, so we knew they'd happily incinerate the lot of us if they'd been given a chance - but there's the thing, we knew better than to give them that chance."

The blue haired amazon woman chuckled darkly.

"So, yes. They nuked our valley. What of it? We were long gone by then, and our home territory is as close to the ideal for nuclear defense as you're ever likely to find. You'd need MILLIONS of nukes to hit all of those crooked little, steep sided valleys! The people on their coasts would have died of airborne radiation long before they hit us with a random blast. Our sorcery is sufficient to take down any spy plane or satellite they launch, and they have NEVER infiltrated us, so a random barrage is as accurate as they're ever going to get as far as finding us. But even say they did they couldn't have hurt our secret mountain caves that are as well-defended as NORAD - a cavern complex a mile or two deep is an easy thing to build if you've got warriors with the Breaking Point, and Hidden Weapons style to carry out the rubble. Even with a direct hit from pinpoint accurate information as to where our redoubts are (information outsiders to the tribe have never had) the largest nuclear weapon ever created would not have been able to destroy those tunnels!

"But also, that information blackout is only one way. Due to our special mind control shampoos we've been able to transform their most loyal adherents into spies for us. So if they ever did get accurate targeting information we could make new caves and relocate faster than they could reprogram their missiles to attack us! And all the things that protect us from their nuclear missiles apply just as well to their aircraft - aircraft that we can destroy with the same casual ease as our spells bring down their spy planes. The Wingbind spell, once used for hunting dragons, prevents any flying thing from staying in the air, plummeting like a rock no matter how well it might fly normally. A dragon has its own magic to prevent this, and still usually falls. A fighter plane or bomber does not even have that defense. We also call down lightning, summon storms... no, the aircraft of the Red Army live no longer than so many beetles tossed into molten steel when sent up against us. You might as well dress the pilots in their funeral robes before launch!

"As for their ground forces? Don't make me LAUGH! Nothing is slower to deploy or more unwieldy than a modern army. They need tons of supplies shipped in just to have breakfast! They need months to prepare for an engagement. While we, on the other hand, can carry everything we want or need in the sleeves of our own robes. We can deploy to fight or relocate to avoid a superior force as easily as a schoolgirl selects her socks in the morning. And in the remarkable event that they should ever surprise us, we could collapse our entrance tunnels above them and burrow out another way! But you make a mistake if you think they knew our territory well.

"The Chinese mainland is vast, and all but a small fraction of the population lives in a narrow strip along the coasts. What few aren't coastal dwellers generally concentrate in the giant river valleys, which leaves vast stretches of nothingness to get lost in, and it is not an easy terrain to search, like plains or deserts. Our home numbers some of most difficult and treacherous mountain ranges in the world, mountains high enough that most planes cannot fly safely overhead even if we weren't shooting them down, blasting them apart with bolts of lightning, crashing them in storms, causing fuel stores to explode, or simply transforming the bolts and rivets that hold them together into puffs of air.

"Our treacherous mountain homeland is not a place where you can easily send a million coastal farmboys through and find anything - more like you'd lose your farmboys. And with the avalanches and flash floods and other things we could arrange we could, and did, bleed their army white for trying. They lost thousands of men, and we were just getting started! Destroying roads and isolating troops dependent upon supplies is actually a game for us, and one we enjoy.

"The Splitting Cat Hairs technique is useful for more than just surrounding an enemy, you can send the illusions off at a distance to draw fire just as easily as keeping them close. So an elder, or a talented youngster, who knows that technique can stage false attacks and fool troops into firing off all of their ammunition without ever being close to danger herself. It was developed that way to make an opponent waste arrows, but works just as well on bullet using armies. And it saps morale like you wouldn't believe to be fighting 'ghosts', especially when our stealth specialists slip past their lines to men sleeping in their cots and leave hundreds of throats slit to be discovered in the morning! Or cause their own ammo dumps to explode, or other such fun things. And the havoc is unbelievable when most or all of their officers are among the dead."

"But what about modern sensors?" Amy asked, quite puzzled.

"Bah! Modern sensors are chiefly useful to find modern people - which we aren't! Our amazons have no radio or radar waves to detect, no computers to infiltrate, no large vehicles to track, use no lights to speak of, and know how to shield our body heat from infravision - a trick we picked up two thousand three hundred years ago when fighting a race of demons that could see using heat. The sensors of our enemies did them no good at all, even fooled them into believing they were safe when they most definitely weren't! We even have a few methods, among our magical objects, that we used to blind their satellites, or bring them crashing down! So they did not even have that to use against us! In fact, I think they are still replacing the ones we disabled or destroyed. And any passing into view above our province die all over again, just as a general precaution on our part.

"But... but they had so many men!" Sailor Moon again objected.

At this Cologne actually laughed. "No, child, the strength of a modern army is not measured in men, or even in skill, but in factories and roads. Equipment is their lifeblood and they need a constant, enormous flood of it. You cut that off and they are already defeated. Killing them in the field is just sport after that. But while it takes months to build a factory or road, we Amazons could destroy them in seconds! We do not need explosives or other modern marvels to do it, either. Among our Amazon sisters there are many who have practiced the Breaking Point with their feet, and can deeply crater roads as fast as they can run along them, which is as fast as many local vehicles can travel, rendering them completely impassable behind! And a few, treacherous, windy mountain passes are not places to go off-road in. A simple broken bridge could stall their entire army for months!

The lady chuckled deep within her throat. "Constructing a modern road able to bear modern vehicles takes equipment that is scarce and costly, too. Huge vehicles that a single Amazon sister could destroy with a single swat from her bonbori that crumples its engine compartment and axles, rendering the whole thing that much useless scrap metal that can do nothing but serve as a road block until its owners cut it up to carry it away. It cannot even be towed at that point, and weighs too much for other machines to lift. One Amazon can leap in and knock out all the vehicles of a road building crew in less time than it takes for a guard to blink, then be gone again before he is even able to raise his rifle, and that is if she chooses not to undercut the entire camp with the Breaking Point and tumble them off a cliff! Or kill the sentries so she can slaughter the rest of the crew and guards in their sleep, then destroy their equipment at her leisure! Ordinary troops are no match for Amazons!

"Nor is the Breaking Point our only technique that deals with rock. Just as that one was developed for quarrying stone, we have one for farming that softens rock and stones to the consistency of swamp mud, the easier to plow and plant in, and very fertile for crops to grow in. But we can, if we choose, leave a crust of the original rock on top. So if we do that before an advancing army, the troops can pass over and never know there is anything wrong, but any tanks, jeeps, or supply trucks that try break through the thin crust and sink to the bottom in the time it takes to snap your fingers. If you are looking the wrong way you'll even miss it, and when you look back your tank is gone, just gone, with no sign to show what happened and with the crew entombed within, helpless to escape it. That's the sort of thing that spawns rumors of tank-eating demons, which is the last sort of story you want to circulate among an army that already believes that it is fighting ghosts. You get mutinies and mass desertions at that point, no matter how much your men might fear their officers."

Cologne chose to favor them with a smile. "Of course, a strategy pioneered by the Americans is that if you cannot drive in your supplies, you fly them in. But we Amazons can call up winds at our pleasure, and the right wind at the right time can smash low flying aircraft and shred parachutes. So our terrain became effectively impassible for modern armies when we went to war. They could not even feed the troops they'd already marched there!"

Here the former crone laughed once again. "And all of those are just their roads! You need not worry about transporting any equipment you cannot even build in the first place! A junior supply officer taken away to someplace private and given a shampoo and rinse with the correct formula and pressure points will cheerfully, even eagerly, tell you all you want to know about an infrastructure, including what to hit and where to shut it all down, and who knows more than he does in case you need to fill in gaps in his data!

"A factory is an expensive place that it takes months to build, but a contingent of a dozen or so Amazons armed with the Breaking Point and bonbori can reduce the whole thing to scrap and rubble in SECONDS! Most guards are still calling in the alarm when we are already long gone! A country never has more than a handful of large factories producing bullets and bombs, and those were all among our initial strike targets. We could not strike all of their warehouses and stockpiles, not having the number of Amazons needed to do so, but it hardly mattered in any case. Those we did strike we hit with lightning elementals who rampaged through, detonating all of the ordinance and leaving those bases in ruins from the craters of their own explosive shells! While the ones we did not hit were in no way sufficient to supply the insatiable appetite of a modern mechanized army!

"With Hidden Weapons to conceal our armaments we can blend in to a population and strike wherever we need, sewing chaos and carnage behind us! Cause enough local catastrophes and the carefully ordered social structure that is so good at spying on its own population is thrown into enough disorder they could never find us! Threaten a few police chiefs in the right ways and suddenly the cops don't WANT to find you! They don't DARE for fear of the reprisals promised to them. And the hardcases can be shampooed so they can't even recognize what an Amazon is, even when she stands right before him!"

She chuckled. "No, there are sisters among our Amazons who want to go to war with the Red Chinese again, just for how much fun we had the first time! It was as simple as beating an egg! With about the same amount of risk on our part. By the time the war ended we had already captured one of their high officials, and after a shampoo and rinse he was enthusiastically helping us send the codes to reprogram their own missiles to nuke China's coastal population centers! They could hardly surrender fast enough at that point! The head of their government still lives in terror of us, and their generals weep at rumors of our approach."

Cologne was, by now, enjoying a full on laugh at those memories. "Remember girls: It makes no difference what they have, or how willing they are to use it, if they are not able to hit their targets!"

"But it wasn't a total success. You still lost your homeland. The radiation in your valley would make it quite unlivable for a great many years to come." Amy pondered.

"Girl, they didn't so much as kill one of our herd animals. Even our sheep went unhurt by the Red Chinese, while on the other hand we broke the back of the communists' entire army and were working our way through their industry when their government folded and begged us to let them surrender. As for our home valley, we have chi techniques that shield from background radiation, developed long ago to explore certain deep caves and refined to fight demons we found there. We have a LONG history and have encountered most things before. Radiation is not new to this world. Concentrated forms of it are unusual, but then so are the techniques to concentrate chi energy. And cleaning up after battles with those earth demons long ago taught us how to gather radioactive particles out of the air, earth and water and dispose of them safely. Our valley is fine, and as fertile and safe as it has ever been. We even gathered those radioactive chunks to make into our own bombs, which we play with the Red Chinese by letting them find one in the leader's bedroom from time to time - but it's always gone before their bomb squads can arrive. It serves as a great motivational tool, however. They fall all over themselves not to displease us. After all, how many times do you want to go to the bathroom and find out you are sharing space with a nuclear weapon on a countdown to detonation?"

The former crone laughed heartily. "No, like the previous Chinese emperors before them, our communist overlords live in terror of us. As well they should. If we so chose, we could disappear among their own population bases before they could get their own forces out to attack us! It was just more fun to defeat them in the field, terrorize their leaders, sink their tanks and vehicles, crater airport runways, and destroy their roads and infrastructure!"

Her gaze became dark and level. "And they know well that even should they, by luck, surprise or skill, destroy our main villages and the bulk of our tribes with them, we have enough scattered members that none of the leaders of those who'd destroyed us would survive - and we've had three thousand years to think up imaginative tortures for those that truly manage to displease us. Even without our main tribes, our survivors could smash their nation and condemn their leaders to thousands of years of torment. The last Emperor of the Chinese who managed to deal us such an injury still hasn't managed to die yet, in spite of over a thousand years of wishing he could end the pain. Our tribes recovered a long time ago from the extinction he nearly brought upon us, but he still resides in a literal hell. We even arranged for some of their current leaders to have a little visit, to have witnessed what awaits them if they ever do manage to do us that injury."

She chuckled darkly. "None of those men have stopped weeping about it yet. No, they'd sooner put a gun to their own heads and fire than try to move against us again! I could, right this minute, get on the phone and tell them to go to war against a country they'd surely lose against - and they would do it rather than displease us!"

OoOoO

Author's Notes:

I get so tired of stories trying to pretend that the mechanisms of modern government would be the perfect tool for Nabiki to casually crush those pesky little Amazons. In the first place, the 'grand all-powerful Nabiki' approach simply turns my stomach! She's never displayed much of what I'd call true cunning, all too willing to betray sacred trusts over pocket change. And, in the second place, the Amazons display so much magic and special techniques that even if I were granted the full powers of any government on Earth to prosecute war against them without limit, I'm not sure that I could succeed, partially for reasons I just described.

If government can't casually wipe out organized crime, which is just made up of ordinary people, what chance would they have against a determined race of Chinese Amazons given the powers they've shown in the series?

No, I can well see why ancient, Chinese emperors lived in terror of them. 


End file.
